An Unfortunate Outcome
by fukuji mihoko
Summary: After Beelzebub tries  and fails  to steal Battler's food, the blonde stake begins to plot her revenge against Battler. Unfortunately, Ronove manages to get caught up in it, too.  :Battler/Ronove, vague Gaap/Cornelia later on:
1. You'll be sorry!

**An Unfortunate Outcome  
**Chapter One

'You'll be sorry!'

* * *

"Catch me if you ca~an, Ushiromiya Battler! Kyahahaha!"

"D-damnit... damnit..."

"Awww~ Are you going to give up already? How useless! How pathetic! Gyahaha!"

"T-those are Beato's lines, not _**yours**_! Try and be a little more original!" Battler spat back at Beelzebub.

"Huh?" The irritating blonde bundle of energy frowned. "What was that? What are you getting so upset about, I wonder? Hmnnn~?"

"N-ngh..."

Truth be told, the force of his previous words had surprised even Battler.

For a few seconds Battler had to wonder why, exactly, he was trying to defend that bitch. Beatrice only ever made his life miserable. It was the only thing she was good at. And Battler knew Beato would find it _hilarious_ if she learnt he was trying to 'defend her honour' (or whatever little shards of honour she actually possessed- if any). If Beatrice found out about his impassioned words, she would've laughed at him for days.

And then murdered his family.

Because that was just how Beatrice showed her love for people.

Even so, Battler couldn't stand about idly and let Beelzebub talk to him in that tone of voice! Beelzebub wasn't anywhere near Beato's level- she wasn't even close! She was only a stake- a lowly piece, a _pawn_- and being spoken to in such a haughty way by a bare-legged girl in a stupid outfit really hurt Battler's male pride!

...Not that being spoken to in a haughty way by a psychopathic witch in a seemingly demure dress that covered up her top half about as well as an elephant could hide behind ant was much better, but- in Battler's own words- 'whatever!'

He could at least make Beelzebub shut up without the consequences being _too _severe.

Beelzebub could only break a few of his limbs; Beatrice would probably scold her if she shattered her chew toy into pieces.

Beatrice, however, was far less forgiving.

You'd be lucky to have any limbs left if you got on _her_ bad side.

"Kihihi~ Whatchu going to dooo?~" Beelzebub continued to taunt, her voice adapting a sing-song lilt. "I wonder, I wonder! Why don't you just clutch your head, crouch in the corner and shout 'it's uselessss!' like always, hmn? Gyahaha!"

"D-damnit, damnit! Don't fuck with me!"

"Give up, Battler! You'll never win!"

"Y-you're wrong!" Battler snarled at Beelzebub. "I fight for the side of justice! Justice never gives up in the face of evil- it strives forward and, no matter how helpless the situation seems, it always, _always _wins! That's how the world works! And I won't stop believing in that! Evil will never triumph! I'll definitely beat you! Get ready, Beelzebubbbb!~"

"Noo wayy!" Beelzebub cackled, turning briefly to stick out her tongue. "All your cookies are belong to me, and I will NEVER give them back! I'd rather DIE!"

"You WILL die if you don't hand them over right now! I'm hungry!"

"Go lick the dust and dirt off the floor, then! It's all your uncultured taste buds deserve! Gyahahaha! Oh, I wonder which cookie I should eat first~ They all look so gooood~"

"Damnit... damnit!"

And then, so suddenly you would've missed it if you blinked, Battler's body dissolved into a bevy of flickering, golden butterflies.

"H-huh...?"

Beelzebub frantic footfalls slowed, ever so gradually, as she realized her opponent- her opponent who had waxed poetic on the beauties of justice and the inevitable, eventual downfall of evil- had disappeared.

Then, she stopped running altogether.

She turned her head this way and that, her princess curls bouncing as she did so, eagerly, as though they were living creatures, too. With narrowed eyes she scanned the surrounding area, as thoroughly as any member of the Siesta Royal Guard would've done (in fact, Beelzebub wouldn't have minded dressing up as a Siesta sister. Their outfits were so cute! And those ears looked so adorable and fluffy!

Come to think of it, didn't Gaap have a spare Siesta outfit she'd stolen from somewhere? Beelzebub had vague recollections of her forcing Virgilia to model it... Hmn...

Maybe she could bribe Gaap into giving it up for a few days...?)

Eventually Beelzebub was forced to come to the conclusion that Battler had disappeared.

All his epic words, overly-enthusiastic finger pointing and posing had been for naught. Like all men, he just tried to look big- but, in reality, he was weak!

A failure!

That thought should have made Beelzebub cackle like a maniac. After all, she'd _won_. Battler was simply unable to handle her overwhelming levels of awesome, and he'd left!

But, even though Beelzebub tried to force a laugh of triumph, she couldn't.

Instead, she pouted.

Being furniture to the Golden Witch, Beatrice, Beelzebub had come to share her master's love for cruel and unusual games. And what did Beatrice always say? It was always best if you won by grinding every cell of your opponent down into the dust and securing a perfect 'checkmate'! Only then could you laugh in their faces, trample their fragile hopes to irreparable tatters, and boast your true victory.

If your opponent simply gave up- if they folded, flicking their king over before the termination of the game- then you hadn't won properly. Your opponent hadn't given up because of _you_; no. They'd done it out of their own free will- their own choice. In essence, they had defeated themselves.

That was... so boring...

Beelzebub didn't want to give Battler a choice! As one of the seven stakes of purgatory- the cutest, most adorable one (in her opinion, anyway)- she couldn't let Battler get away without being punished! Beelzebub made a vow. She was going to scour every corner- every square centimeter, inch, yard and any other measurement of distance applicable- of the meta world until she found that weak, useless man, and then she was going to grab hold of him by his collar and force him to compete with her!

Maybe she'd go easy on him a little because he was only a weak, pathetic human with a stupid haircut.

No- better yet!

Maybe she'd pretend to be losing, to instill some hope into his tattered heart. He'd begin to feel he had a chance; he'd foolishly believe, like an idealist, that he could turn the hopeless situation around at the last second and pull off an amazing victory.

And then, once he'd started to regain his confidence-

Beelzebub would pull it all out from underneath him.

She'd _crush _him into pieces, and then she'd crush those _pieces_ into _pieces_, and then she'd _set fire to those pieces_ and scatter them to the wind!

After she'd had her fun reducing Battler into pieces into pieces into dog food into nothing she'd glue those poor, shattered, fragmented parts of Ushiromiya Battler back together, just to listen the sweet sound of his voice as he begged for forgiveness on bended knee.

And then she'd bake him.

And eat his cookies.

Right in front on his remains.

Or maybe it would better if he was alive when he did that, so she could see the look of pain and agony flicker across his face...?

And then, after she'd done that, she'd...

She'd...

Hmn...

Beelzebub didn't know. She hadn't planned that far ahead (Lucifer always scolded her for being too rash, but Lucifer was just a boring old hag in a pretty girl's body who couldn't understand the joys of youth!).

Beelzebub decided she'd probably kill and then revive Battler some more, over and over, to mess with his head. Or maybe she could give him to Asmodeus as a late birthday present? If she tied a ribbon around Battler's remains, or baked them into a cake, then maybe...

Would that work?

...Probably not.

Who would want to eat ashes in a cake, anyway?

"Whatever~" Beelzebub sang, her heart now filled with a newfound happiness (the prospect of mutilation and murder always cheered her up). "I'll just figure that difficult stuff out when I get to it! Gyahahahahahaha-"

"Ihihihi!~ I'm sorry to rain on your parade, but... Actually, no. I'm not!"

"H-huh?"

But Beezlebub never had a chance to turn her head. Faster than she could say "yippy skippy, it's Battler!' (not that she said that- or had any desire to say that. Instead, she said 'Kyahh! Get off me!'), she felt an arm wrap around her waist, whilst another went to the basket of cookies in her hands.

"U-ushirimoya Battler!"

"That's right~" Battler said, smirking- though the smirk was lost on Beelzebub, given he was stood behind her. "Well done! You get a point~ Ihihi~"

Whilst she'd been lost in her manic cackling, Battler had phased back into existence behind Beelzebub. From then on, it had been reasonably simple to grab hold of her- just like scooping a goldfish at a festival. Battler's left arm circled round her waist, whilst his free hand reached for the basket of cookies Beelzebub was trying to keep out of his reach.

"I-I don't want your points, idiot!" Beelzebub snapped, trying to drive an elbow into Battler's stomach- but, though he gave a small grunt of pain, it wasn't enough to make him let go. If anything, his grip on her became tighter.

Then, with a started squeak, Beelzebub felt wandering fingers pressing against her chest.

Her eyes widened.

"W-what are you doing, moron?"

"I'm trying to get my cookies back! It's not my fault your boobs are so huge they get in the way! And if I did grope them a little by accident-"

"If you could call things like that 'accidents' sexual harassment wouldn't even exist, you pus-head!"

Battler blinked at Beelzebub (more like, he looked down at the top of her head), frowning.

_Pus-head...?_

_Really?_

_..._

_Whatever._

"...As I was saying, if I did grope them by _ACCIDENT_," Battler repeated, stressing the word, "it's your own fault. You shouldn't have stolen my food in the first place! It's not like I'm grabbing at them on purpose..."

There was a pause.

"I mean, not that much, anyway."

It wasn't a bad thing though, Battler reasoned. He was just punishing her for being a despicable human being (or was that 'piece of furniture'?) When he grabbed her boobs it _might _have looked like he was just some horny teenage kid trying to cop a feel, but that wasn't it at all!

...Mostly.

Battler was the divine spear of judgment, and each time he groped Beelzebub it was- in actuality- a huge step forward for the powers of light and good and justice!

...Or something.

It was difficult trying to formulate a decent reason for groping Beelzebub whilst he was actually doing it, but he was sure there was one somewhere.

"K-kyah! Pervert! Pervert!" Beelzebub squealed. "Y-you're the worst kind of person!"

"Says a girl whose hobbies include eating and _repeatedly murdering my family members! _Nu-uh! Don't pull the 'I'm a small, helpless victim' card on me- 'cause it's not going to work!"

"...Huh."

At that, Beelzebub stopped struggling and screaming. Her face, which before had been the perfect picture of scandalized shock, turned into something rather more cold and calculating.

She frowned.

"How would you like it if I pulled the 'I'm a big, bad, scary killer' card, then?" she asked. "I can do that pretty well too- as you already know. Kukukuku~"

"Ha!" Battler gave a dismissive laugh. "Just try it!"

Then, in one fluid movement, Battler released Beelzebub, took hold of her shoulders, spun her round-

And punched in the face.

Beelzebub's eyes widened in surprise as Battler's fist went ploughing into her cheek, a horrible crunch reverberating through the white corridors of the nondescript, undisclosed area of the meta world.

"O-ow!"

_...Okay._

_Maybe that was a little_ too _much._

_I-I stand by my earlier claims that it's completely justified, though!_

_Ihihihi..._

At least it made that greedy stake let go of the basket- and punching a girl in the face was totally A-OK if it was for the acquisition of cookies! It was all for the greater good!

Eyes blazing with purpose and determination, Battler dove forwards and picked up the basket-

And then burst into another cloud of golden butterflies.

He was sure, when Beelzebub finally recovered from his surprise attack, she would _not _be a happy bunny.

In fact, she'd be the exact opposite.

She'd be an unhappy stake of purgatory.

And he was right.

Beelzebub watched Battler leave, her eyes narrowed with rage, at blood slowly trickled out of her nose.

Hissing like a cat somebody had just stuck a pin in, Beelzebub slowly wiped the blood away with her sleeve. It didn't help; instead, it only smeared a crimson line across her cheek, wrist and uniform.

Urgh... Blood was such a pain to wash out, too.

Lucifer would shout at her again.

It wasn't **fair!**

Beelzebub should've been the one eating those cookies, not stupid Battler with his stupid hair! Beelzebub was far,_ far_ more deserving of delicious sugary snacks; she was cute, and had huge eyes (not to mention her other assets, which were also quite huge), and shiny hair in an adorable style that would've been impossible to maintain without magic (or lots and lots of hairspray), and she was much, much better than Battler at absolutely everything! That went without saying!

Why should Battler get those cookies? Couldn't he make do with bread crusts and water? He was so unrefined and common he wouldn't even appreciate the taste right, like Beelzebub would. He'd just chomp through them in five seconds, not taking the time to savor the delicious flavor, or the aroma, which was just as important as the actual eating, and then... and then...

Beezlebub felt tears well up in her eyes at the mere thought of Battler eating those cookies- defiling those cookies.

Those cookies that should have been hers.

And, whilst Beelzebub wasn't the stake of envy, she couldn't help but feel incredibly jealous.

And incredibly vengeful.

"Fufu... Fufufufu..."

Beelzebub threw her head back, her cute twin drills bouncing, and began to laugh.

That was it!

She'd get her revenge on Battler! She'd make him sorry he ever even tried to take his own cookies back from her! Battler may have won the battle, but Beelzebub had just declared all-out war- and, in the end, _she'd _be the one laughing! Hell- she was the one laughing at the start, too! Would that help her chances of victory...?

Because Beelzebub would definitely win.

Ushiromiya Battler was no match for her.

Beezlebub didn't even need to consult Lambdadelta, the witch of certainty, about that. Because Beezlebub knew, without fail, she'd emerge the victor from this elaborate game.

She'd grind Battler's face into the floor and make him eat dirt- because that was all he deserved to eat!

"Gyahahahahahaha! Kyahahahaha- ow! B-big sis?"

Beezlebub looked up, wincing, to see the one and only Lucifer towering over her. Not that Lucifer was actually taller than her (well, maybe by a few inches...) However, at that moment she certainly seemed much bigger and far more important- mainly because of the very cold, arctic tundra freezing, _very _scary aura about her.

Lucifer had actually hit Beelzebub so hard in the head the younger stake saw stars; and not just metaphorical ones, either. Bright, colored blobs of magenta and lime green spun, dizzyingly, in her field of vision. It was a wonder Beelzebub had even been able to recognize her sister at all; but that disagreeable face was unmistakable as Lucifer's.

"If you've got enough time to stand around cackling to yourself then you've got enough time to find that dress I lent you, don't you?" said Lucifer.

Beelzebub sighed.

Why did her big sister have to burst her bubble? That was so selfish of her.

It wasn't like Lucifer had anybody to impress, anyway.

"Hoh~ It'll take more than a dress to improve the hideous train wreck of your body," Beezlebub muttered childishly.

...Looking back on it, that probably hadn't been the smartest thing to say.

Mainly because Lucifer heard her.

_Okay, _thought the much abused younger sibling, who now had a rather fetching black eye to match her bleeding nose, _I'm __definitely__ putting Luci as 'number two' on my list of people to terrorize... _

_It sucks being the younger sister._

_Everybody uses me as like a punching bag._

_At least I can always beat up Asmodeus._

_T__hen again, I rather think she's too stupid to even realise when somebody's insulting her._

* * *

**a.n: **Why am I writing Beelzebub so much like Kasane Teto...? I think it must be something to do with the hair XDD  
Well, I'm sort of having weird writers block on my Umineko fic, and... Yeah. I tried writing something else Umineko-related to get my 'flow' back, and I still think the writing in this is pretty stilted and clunky-sounding compared to usual (it took me three days to do this... Normally a chapter like this would take me three hours orz) but I tried :/  
And, yeah, this is another Ronove/Battler fic. Or, in this case, Battler/Ronove.  
Because I love this incredibly stupid pairing so very much XDD~

~**renahhchen xoxo**


	2. Something in the tea

**An Unfortunate Outcome  
**Chapter Two

'Something in the tea'

* * *

"Hey!~ Wake u~uup, sleeping beauty! Kukuku!"

"H-hngh...? Buuwhat?"

"Tch. Are you always this so useless in the morning? You'll disappoint any girlfriend you ever have, yanno. Get up. Get up. Now!"

Battler winced as he felt somebody prod him in the ribs. He made a small noise of irritation, hoping they'd get the idea and leave him alone- because he doubted he had enough strength to physically push them away. His assailant, however, ignored him. If anything, they began prodding him with even more vigor, until Battler actually began to worry for the safety of his ribs.

Sometimes, the meta world could be pretty cool. Even though it was 'wrong' and 'nonsensical' (Battler didn't even want to get started on its occupants, who were a different kettle of fish altogether) and really _shouldn't_ have existed, it _was_ amazing and energy-saving being able to teleport anywhere in a cloud of golden butterflies, or summon objects out of mid-air.

But that was only a small bonus to a terrible deal.

Most of the time, Battler downright hated the meta world- golden butterfly henchmen be damned.

That morning, as he tried to bury himself under his duvet and go back to sleep, whilst a woman with an irritating voice that sounded an awful lot like Beelzebub/Asmodeus (he couldn't be sure, though; all the women in the meta world, save Virgilia and that cat-tailed kid with creepy eyes, had voices that grated against his ears like sandpaper) cackled at him, was a definite low point.

Well...

At least the day could only get better.

Right?

_Ha._

Yeah.

Battler had already realized how useless it was trying to hold onto that hope in the meta world. Sooner or later, somebody (the usual culprit being Beatrice) would commit more acts of violent murder, and then Battler would be thrown into another twisted mind game, and any semblance of 'happiness' or 'normalcy' he'd once had would be shattered.

So it was best not to hope at all.

Thus, it was with a weary heart, and a resolve to fight off each annoyance as it came (whatever didn't kill him would only make him stronger, right?), Battler sat up, glaring at his attacker with narrowed eyes from underneath his messy bangs.

His second guess had been right.

It was Asmodeus.

A breakfast tray was hovering by her head, innocuous enough- it was after all, an inanimate object. Battler knew, logically, it couldn't hurt him.

Not if Asmodeus was playing by 'human world' rules, anyway.

However, the cruel grin splitting the pretty girl's face in two made Battler think otherwise.

So he stared at that tray dubiously, pushing strands of messy hair out of his eyes.

Didn't Ronove usually bring him food, anyway?

...Not that Battler trusted that damn butler, but he trusted the seven stakes_ less_- especially the two younger ones. And that was saying something.

"Kyahaha!~ You're finally up!~" Asmodeus cackled.

"I'm aware of that." Battler winced, pressing a hand against his temple. He was beginning to feel a headache coming on, and it was only eight in the morning. "You don't need to narrate my life for me. And do you have to talk so loud?"

"Um..."

Asmodeus frowned, as though she were seriously pondering the question. She coiled a strand of hair round her finger, her teeth resting on her lower lip.

Then, she beamed.

"Yes! Yes I do!~"

"...Freak."

Battler yawned, not even bothering to stifle it with a hand. He didn't care what Asmodeus thought of his manners- or lack of thereof. Battler wasn't going to waste his (very limited) supply of goodwill and courtesy on an annoying brat like her. _Especially _after she'd woken him up at such an ungodly hour.

"What are you doing here?"

"I brought you breakfast, silly!~" Asmodeus trilled, smiling. "What does it look like?~"

"I dunno." Battler raised a brow. He thought the movement was rather suave, given how he'd been asleep five minutes ago, and his hair was a complete mess and his eyelids felt heavy and crusted with sleep. "I could've sworn you just came here to annoy me- but you do that all the time, anyway."

"Noo~" Asmodeus said, miming surprise. "Me? Annoy you? _Never!_"

Battler rolled his eyes- but he stood his ground. He couldn't give in to a girl like that; that would just be embarassing!

"I'm not going to accept any food you give me."

"Huh?" Asmodeus' face fell. "Why not? Why not?"

Battler winced. Asmodeus' voice had taken on the whining tones of a young child who hadn't gotten their own way (and, Battler supposed, that was _exactly_ what Asmodeus was. A whiny child).

It was too early in the morning for this.

"Firstly, you're my enemy. Secondly, you've probably poisoned it. Thirdly, Ronove doesn't even let you guys into the kitchen- something about Beelzebub eating everything and Mammon blowing up cooking pots, so I know you can't cook worth a damn," Battler said, voice lifeless. He reeled off the extensive list in a monotone, counting off each point on his finger- though he knew it wouldn't do any good, in the long run. Asmodeus wouldn't listen to him. Could he really argue with a perpetual bundle of super-charged energy in a provocative uniform so early in the morning?

"And, twenty-eighth," said Battler, getting to the last point on his list, "you're incredibly, _unbelievably _annoying, and I'd rather pour that cup of tea over your head than drink it."

"Kyah!" Asmodeus gave a noise of mock hurt, moving backwards (...was she levitating? Couldn't she at least _try _to act more normal and 'human'esque? It would help clear Battler's headache up a little) as though she'd been shot. She pressed fingers against her chest, playing the role of a martyr; the fatally wounded. "Don't you dare mess up my hair! You don't how long this-" she flipped one pigtail over her shoulder "-masterpiece took me to style."

Battler glared at her, face sullen.

"...They're two pigtails. Even I can do that. In thirty seconds."

Battler used to tie up Ange's stubby pigtails for her when she was young...

But, that really wasn't so long ago, was it?

Suddenly, it felt like an age.

A wave of nostalgia descended upon him before he could stop it.

He couldn't afford to be nostalgic- it created chinks in his armor, and then those demons could slip through and take fatal potshots at him! He had to remain strong!

"You just don't understand the love and care a woman puts into her appearance," said Asmodeus, buffing her nails on her shirt. She gave a wide, sparkling, 'I'm-a-Perfect-Diva' smile, that made Battler feel about as important as a sea slug. "Then again, I wouldn't expect you to know~ You're just a stupid man, after all. I guess that's why you don't wanna eat the food. You don't appreciate the effort Ronove took to make it- and, yeah, I _didn't _cook it myself, okay? But if I had done it'd still be delicious, because anything that comes from the heart is!"

"I don't want to eat anything that came from _your _withered, blackened, husk of a heart," Battler said dryly. "And you do know that 'power of the heart' bullshit is only applicable in Disney movies and magical girl manga, right?" said Battler. "You try jumping off a cliff with the 'power of love' and see what happens." He clapped his hands together. "Squish! You're going to get turned into a pancake. Just like that."

Asmodeus frowned. "Somebody's a bit cynical. Why? Get up on the wrong side of the bed?"

"If you have to ask me _why _I'm so cynical then you're a fucking idiot," said Battler.

Battler was never overly polite- not even to his elders (much to some of the more uppity relatives'- i.e. Natsuhi's- chagrin)- but Battler found himself being even ruder than usual towards the pigtail'd, grinning demon.

Maybe, if she stopped levitating, he'd regain some of his usual 'charm'.

But, at the moment, all Battler wanted to do was throttle her.

"And I'm still not eating that," said Battler sourly, folding his arms. "I don't trust you."

"And you trust Ronove? More than me?" Asmodeus asked, her eyes wide. She began to tug on the ends of her pigtails, in apparent distress. "B-but why? I'm so adora~bubble!~ Teehee!"

Battler rolled his eyes. There was so much wrong with that statement he didn't know where to begin- so, eventually, he decided not to begin at all.

"I'm _positive_ you've done something to that food, or you wouldn't have taken the effort to give it to me yourself. Where's Ronove?"

Asmodeus shrugged. "Oh, something happened."

"...That's pretty vague. You're making me think you've kidnapped him," said Battler. "I wouldn't put it past you."

He glared at Asmodeus. The youngest stake was hovering in mid-air, an innocent smile on her face. She was toying with the ends of her hair as a cat would toy with a ball of yarn. She looked about as likely to commit murder (or, at the very least, commit murder _effectively_) as a beanbag; but Battler knew that childish persona was a ruse.

"I-I would never do that!" Asmodeus said, pouting.

"I don't believe you."

"Well..." Asmodeus began to giggle to herself; a sick, weird kind of giggle that made the hairs on the back of Battler's neck stand up. "Maybe I would, hehehe... But that's not what happened this time! I promise! Cross my heart and hope to die!"

"Then what did happen to him? He didn't meet an unfortunate end with a fish knife so you could deliver food laced with narcotics, right?" Battler asked.

"You've been reading too many mystery novels," said Asmodeus, sticking out her tongue. "Not everything in this world is an amazing, unsolvable closed room murder, yanno!~ Milady was just freaking out a little because her dress went missing, and Ronove had to help her look for it before she, I dunno, exploded. But we all know Gaap took it, and it's gonna be in the some weird portal place somewhere, so what's the point in looking? It was all Beato's fault for eating the strawberry off the top of Gaap's cake when they had a tea party this one time, so she really brought it on herself and oh yeah-"

By this point, Battler was beginning to get a headache. Asmodeus, he soon realized, was the sort of girl who could talk... and talk... and talk... and _talk_, until you felt like throttling her with her own hair just to get her to shut the fuck up for two seconds.

Hmn... That sounded like a pretty good idea.

Was it even possible to strangle somebody with their hair? It'd be a pretty efficient weapon, though; it wouldn't be overly suspicious, not like a knife (which, incidentally, was lying on the breakfast tray by Asmodeus' side. Battler had been considering using _that_ to stab her in the eye, but her hair seemed more effective... But it'd be less satisfactory... If you were going to murder somebody, you might as well do it with lots of blood and gore, right?

...Well, of course, this was all hypothetical.

Battler wasn't a murderer.

R-right?)

"Okay, okay, stop," said Battler. "Your voice is making my ears bleed."

"I have a beautiful voice and you know it!"

"Try saying that in red then!"

Asmodeus pouted, exhaling heavily. The motion made her bangs flutter, caught in a breeze.

"I can't do that, idiot," she said. "I don't have the authority. And besides, beauty is in the eye of the beholder~ Just because you can't appreciate my ah~ma~zing, ENDLESS awesome, doesn't mean nobody else can!~"

Battler ran his hands through his hair, sighing. The silver glint of that metallic knife was beginning to look more and more appealing. It was screaming to him; _pick me up and embed in that annoying girl's face! You know you want to!_

No.

He shook his head, lips drawn into a thin line.

He needed to dispel such thoughts from his mind- they weren't helping!

Before his early morning coffee, he really was in no fit state to deal with people.

_Any_ people.

Especially not levitating, pigtail'd, fanservice-y maid-like demons whose very outfit constituted for one big, constant panty shot.

_It's a good thing Beato cleared me as a murderer on the game board, or I might just start doubting myself. My own thoughts are actually disturbing myself._

"Alright, you're awesome, whatever you say," said Battler listlessly. "Now leave me alone. I'm sleepy."

"Not until you eat your breakfaaast~"

Battler had to wonder why Asmodeus drew the syllable count in 'breakfast' out for so long; was it just common practice to mangle the Japanese language in the meta world, throwing an extra vowel sound in here, the odd tidbit of terrible English and some maniacal laughter to 'spice it up' there? Or maybe there really _was _something suspect in the food, and Amsodeus was mocking him... But, if that was the case, why would she draw attention to it? Surely she'd want to assure him the food was fine and A-OK, not make him even _**more**_ suspicious... But, turning the chessboard over, it was logical to assume Asmodeus deduced he'd_ think_ the food was safe if she pretended it wasn't, because he didn't trust her...

And then Battler looked at Asmodeus, and realized she was an idiot.

Thus, his line of reasoning fell apart.

_My head hurts._

_It's too early in the morning for chessboard thinking._

"I'll stop bugging you if accept the food~" said Asmodeus, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Fufufu~"

Battler raised a brow. "So you're actually _aware _you're irritating? I thought it just came naturally."

"It's a talent!~" Asmodeus sang, flipping one of her highly strangle-able pigtails over one shoulder.

"A talent you put to good use."

"Indeed!~ Now! You gotta eat up, okay? You need your strength!~"Asmodeus chirped, chipper as ever. "Beat- u-um-" she caught herself just in time, giving a sheepish laugh, "-Milady, I mean, is in a pretty bad mood. So you might want to prepare yourself."

"She's _always _in a bad mood," Battler muttered.

"Only towards you!" said Asmodeus, smirking. "Because you're uncouth and uncivilized and- owww! T-that was mean!"

But Battler had decided, then and there, that he wasn't going to listen to that brat insult him anymore. In one deft motion (it was far more fluid than he felt he'd be capable of in the morning, sans caffeine; but when people were in dire situations ((or, more like, being teased by magical floating maid girls)) they could do amazing things) he grabbed hold of one of Asmodeus' pigtails, and pulled.

"Take it back," said Battler- wondering why, exactly, he even trying to get into a fight at all. That would only aggravate the situation!

...But it made him feel better.

"Can't take back what's true!" Asmodeus retorted childishly.

Battler glared at her; a glare that could pierce through worlds and bring people to their knees. But then, after a short while, that deadly expression fell into something rather less threatening. He hadn't the energy to hold such a scowl on his face for too long, and it quickly became a pout, which didn't carry the same weight as an angry scowl. He let go of Asmodeus' hair- and, with it, tried to relinquish the fantasy of causing her fatal harm.

"You're an awful person."

"I know!~" Asmodeus said cheerily. "Now eat your breakfast."

Battler blinked at her, slowly, as though trying to see through her mind.

What was her motive here?

Well, surely the food wasn't poisoned. Even though Beatrice mocked him every chance she got, what with her insane laughter and cruel mind games, he was sure she didn't _really_ want him dead; at least, not by any hands other than hers. If Asmodeus tried to kill Battler without her master's permission, Battler didn't doubt Beatrice would use some of her 'endless magic' to transfigure the troublesome girl into a toad.

So, if it wasn't poison, what was it...?

Battler knew he shouldn't accept it- he didn't trust that smirk on Asmodeus' face, so wide with teeth so jagged it looked like it'd been carved from a pumpkin with a breadknife- but the food couldn't have been_ that_ dangerous. After all, Asmodeus was an idiot.

Unless she was working with Beelzebub, who probably _was _intelligent enough to slip him strange substances in his food (despite her stupid bouncy hair that suggested otherwise), and whom Battler had really pissed off yesterday.

Hmn...

But, it _definitely _wasn't poisoned. Battler was so sure of that he could've said it in red- had he the ability to.

And he was hungry...

And if Beatrice was in a bad mood, it'd probably be best to have eaten _something_, before she unleashed her wrath upon him.

"Hurry up hurry up hurry up!~" Asmodeus chided, prodding Battler in the side of the head. "Hurry!~"

And, the biggest plus of all: eating the food would get Asmodeus to leave him alone.

So...

Battler shrugged.

Whatever.

Why not?

Maybe he was just over-thinking things.

And he wouldn't let Asmodeus defeat him!

He reached forwards, trying not to show any trepidation- Asmodeus would take that for a sign of weakness, and he wasn't _afraid _of her! He'd seen pillows that were more menacing!- and took hold of the cup of tea. It was warm in his hands, and gently steaming. Even though Battler preferred coffee, it still smelt good...

"Just so you know." Battler turned to shoot Asmodeus a _look_; an expression so laced with suspicion and irritation and kinda-hatred-but-not-really (it was hard to hate somebody like Asmodeus, what with her cute pigtails and her smiling face, even if she was a homicidal maniac on the game board) that it made Asmodeus flinch a little. "If I die, I'm going to rise from the dead and give you hell."

"That's impossible~"

"Nothing's impossible in this place," Battler mumbled darkly.

And then, he stared down at the contents of his teacup...

Gathered his resolve...

And started to drink.

...

...

...It didn't taste right.

Asmodeus' laughter wasn't helping either.

Battler drew the cup away from his lips, looking down at the murky contents as though they would tell him about the secret, innermost workings of the universe. Of course, they did no such thing (he'd have been more frightened if his teacup _had_ become a sentient being to offer him advice); but the strangely sweet taste spreading across his tongue- it was almost flowery, and reminded him of the perfume Virgilia wore- was proof enough that something was _definitely_ Not Right. And it was so 'Not Right' it deserved capital letters; that was how important it was in Battler's paranoid mind.

The tea stung as he swallowed it, burning his throat.

"Fufufufu~ Kyahahahaha!" Asodeus was laughing so hard tears began to bead at her eyes, and she hovered uneasily, almost drunkenly, in mid-air, her arms around her stomach.

"What's so funny?" Battler spat at her, eyes narrowed. "D-don't fuck around with me, damn it!"

"Oh, nothing, nothing~" said Asmodeus airily, wiping a tear from the corner of her eyes. "I-it's just..."

But the moment her eyes met Battler's, she began to giggle again.

Battler clenched his hands into fists, the urge to grab her hair again growing stronger and stronger.

"What?"

Asmodeus tilted her head to one side, one eye bigger than the other, a truly manic expression playing across her face. It didn't fit with her 'little girlish' image; those pigtails and that face were not a good combination. It sent shivers down Battler's spine, much as the tea had burnt a trail of scalding fire down his throat as he swallowed.

Asmodeus smirked.

When she next opened her mouth, her words were in... red...?

Didn't she say she couldn't do that...?

But Battler soon forgot that small technically when she next spoke.

"**That wasn't tea you just drank.**"

* * *

**a/n: **Yay :D Set-up is pretty much done now, and I will introduce Ronove and Beato and a very other charas maybe in the next chapter, where STUFF WILL HAPPEN :D :D  
And it will be beautiful XD~  
Fics like this with lots of dialogue and character interaction are really fun to write :3

**~renahhchen xoxoxo**


	3. An underhanded attack

**An Unfortunate Outcome  
**Chapter Three

'An underhanded attack'

* * *

Asmodeus watched Battler's face carefully as it shifted through a multitude of emotions. His lips and brows furrowed and creased in the most interesting ways, until Asmodeus was half-tempted to tease, "the wind'll change and your face'll stay that ugly forever! It'll be even uglier than usual! Kyahaha!"

...But, whilst Asmodeus' intelligence was not the most stellar of the seven sisters, even _she _had enough sense not to know you shouldn't provoke a man on the edge of a breakdown. That would be like sticking your hand in an alligator's mouth _and _hitting said alligator with a stick at the same time, then being surprised when you drew your arm away- only to find it wasn't there.

Asmodeus didn't have a death wish.

So, instead, she floated away from Battler, hovering just out his arm's reach. She took the tray with her, too; she didn't like the way Battler was eyeing up the cutlery on it. And what if he tried to use the tray as a projectile? She'd get food in her hair!

Then she really _would _have to kill Battler.

It would be a shame, too, because he was so fun to make fun of.

Tormenting Beatrice was akin to signing your own death warrant. Gaap was far too intelligent and wily to trick; what with her love for pranks, anybody who tried to one-up her would get all their personal possessions stolen faster than blinking. Virgilia was so sweet tempered Asmodeus would have just felt mean if she did anything to her; and besides, Virgilia- behind her gentle, smiling face- was incredibly powerful. And Ronove never rose to the bait; it was almost impossible to fluster him.

Battler was the only person left to torment.

And his reactions were so spectacular, it was impossible not to do it.

It was so funny when he lost his temper and his face went red!

Asmodeus waited, almost breathlessly, for another volcanic reaction...

"...Oh. Is that so?"

...But none came.

Asmodeus frowned, feeling horribly let down.

"Is that _it_?" she asked, folding her arms. "Aren't you going to hit me?"

"Of course." Battler's voice was calm, level; almost disarmingly so. If he'd shouted and thrown death threats around, it would have been _less_ frightening. "I will hit you. After you tell me what, exactly, you put in my drink."

"Ohohoho!~" Asmodeus cackled, trying to smooth down her panic.

When Battler spoke like that, his voice low and dangerous, it was just really... really... cool!

"That laugh answered nothing," said Battler flatly, voice deadpan.

"I can't help it~ It's just so funny! Fufufufu!"

"Let me in on the joke, then." He rolled his eyes. "I swear to God, you people could get_ so_ much more done if you cut down on the insane laughter every two seconds."

"Wellll~" Asmodeus drew out the syllable count of that one word beyond breaking point. Her fingers toyed with her hair, coiling one pigtail around her finger, almost coyly. "Beelzebub spoke to me yesterday, and she was all annoyed with you because you stole her food-"

"_**My **_food."

"But she took it, so that made it hers."

"If it worked like that we wouldn't have laws about stealing!" Battler snapped. His left eye twitched.

Cracks were beginning to form in his facade of calm already; and Asmodeus' breath caught in her throat, and she leant forwards, just a little- though she was still out of range of Battler's arms. It was going to be fun, watching Battler fall to pieces...

"Well, big sis was upset, and she was going on about 'I will get my revenge on him! Gyahahahaha' etc etc, and that kind of thing," said Asmodeus, condensing her sisters' laugh down for the purposes of brevity. "And then she asked me to help her extract her revenge. And I did, 'cause it sounded funny~ Fufufufu~"

"And... what did you do... Asmodeus...?"

Battler tried to force some degree of composure into his voice. The words were stilted, gaps opening up in that simple question as large as the holes in Swiss cheese. His fingers had curled into fists.

"What... did I just drink...?"

"Well, it's kinda fitting to the sin I represent, actually!~" said Asmodeus cheerfully. "Being the stake of lust and all."

Battler's eyes widened at this, so large it looked like his eyeballs would actually roll out of their sockets.

"Y-you gave me _Viagra? _How is that going to help anything?"

"Huh?" Asmodeus blinked at Battler, confused. Then, a smile split across her face, wide and eerie, like a wound. "Of course not~ You're such a pervert anyway, it wouldn't even make a difference!"

"I-I'm not a pervert!"

"You are, you are!~" Asmodeus chided. "You're looking at my boobs right now!"

"Fff..." Battler made a strange hissing noise, like air being let out of a balloon. Then, he turned his head away. "W-whatever! Stop messing with me! Tell me what you made me drink, so I can hurry up and throttle you!"

"Why would you do that? I'm so cu~uute~"

"We'll see how cute you are when I've pinned you to the wall by the intestines!"

"Kyahh~ Scaryyy~" Asmodeus wailed. "N-no wonder you get along so well with Beat- I-I mean, Milady!~ You're just like her!"

"ASMODEUS."

Battler's calm mask was now well and truly shattered; it was not beyond repair, but Asmodeus knew the next words she spoke would deal the devastating, finishing blow.

"Hehe~ If you really wanna know what I made you drink..." Asmodeus pressed her fingertips together, looking down at the floor. She smiled sheepishly. "It was totally a love potion."

There was a long pause.

Asmodeus flinched, waiting for the explosion. She held her hands up, taking the pre-emptive; trying to defend herself from an attack that hadn't come. Battler was still trying to shift through his confused thoughts.

Battler opened his mouth.

Closed it again.

More silence piled up; silence upon silence, until it hung around the room so heavily it was almost tangible.

And then, Battler spoke.

"...Oh. Right."

He shook his head, his messy hair becoming even more unruly.

And then, he smirked.

"That's impossible!"

"It's fully possible~ You're the one who said anything could happen in the meta world, right? Golden butterflies and all?"

"Yeah, but if that thing-" he motioned towards the half-empty cup, still in his hands, "-was a 'love potion', then why haven't I starting drooling at the sight of _you_?"

"Because I'm so sexy you drool at me anyway, so there's no difference~"

"Ihihihi." Battler began to snigger. "That's no good. That's no good at all. I'm sorry to burst your delusion little bubble, but I'm not interested in annoying brats like you."

"That's good, because I'm not interested in stupid guys with stupid hair who cry about every little thing and crouch in the corner wailing 'it's USELESSS!' about everything they're too dumb to figure out like you," Asmodeus countered. "And, anyway, I was the one who made that drink. It doesn't have an effect on the person who made it~"

"You couldn't make a piece of toast, let alone a potion."

Asmodeus threw her arms wide, her eyes rolling heavenwards. "You know!" she declared, "I don't _**understand**_ who you got this completely twisted, WRONG idea that I'm a moron from! I'm actually not THAT dumb!" She narrowed her eyes. "I bet you've been talking to Mammon. Or Luci. Or Satan. They all tell lies- you shouldn't listen!"

"Well, it's nice to know your other sisters are just as despicable as you."

"Of course~ We're a villanous bunch!~" Asmodeus giggled. "I'm not lying, though. **What you just drank will do some very strange things to you.**"

"N-ngh..." Battler flinched, as the red truth began to circulate around Asmodeus' body, coiling from her mouth like a serpent.

Was she really... telling the truth...?

"The next person you see, you'll fall in love in. BLAM!" Asmodeus clapped her hands together, loudly enough to make Battler jump. "Just like that! And then you'll be completely helpless! Gyahahahaha!"

Battler narrowed his eyes.

This could have been a joke...

But that was _definitely _not tea in the cup in his hand.

He could something strange and warm, almost scalding, pumping through his veins; there was something in his blood...

There had been something in that 'tea'.

And now, whatever it was, it was inside him.

"Oh my gosh oh my gosh eeee!" Asmodeus began to squeal, flapping her arms as though she were conducting some invisible choir. She was actually crying from laughter; horrible, black, spidery lines of mascara ran down her cheeks, making Battler flinch. She didn't even try to wipe the tears away; there were too many of them. "What if you see Beato next? What if you, like, fall completely, helplessly in love with her? Gyahahaha! She'll make you kneel down and use you as a footrest, or a table... Furniture! Kyahahaha! And you'll AGREE to it, because you love her thaattt much, you see?"

Battler recoiled at this.

The idea of being in love with Beatrice was... almost horrifying enough to bring the 'tea' he'd just consumed back up out of his mouth...

Actually, that was a good idea...

But he wasn't going to make himself sick in front of Asmodeus; that would be admitting defeat! And she could have been bluffing, anyway.

"If you think it's a lie, just go marching up to Beato and see for yourself~" said Asmodeus, cackling. "Try it! Try it!"

But...

Battler knew he couldn't.

He couldn't risk it.

Love, he realized, was a very powerful weapon. And it was a weapon Beatrice would use mercilessly- as she had tried to do in the third game, with her 'tsundere' act. He didn't doubt Asmodeus' words; if he truly came to fall in love with Beatrice, that blonde bitch really _would _use him as a table, or a chair- and when she got bored of that, she'd decapitate him and finger-paint with his organs.

But what if he caught eyes on Lucifer first, and fell in love with her? No- worse yet- Satan. Good God, Satan was scary; almost as terrifying as Beatrice herself!

Okay, okay...

Best case scenario, he ran into Virgilia. Virgilia wasn't the sort of woman who would make fun of him- at least, not without Beatrice's input. Virgilia would laugh, probably, and make some dry comment about being old enough to be his great-great-great-grandmother, but she wouldn't try to hurt him.

Or, at least, he didn't think she would...

Except, no, that wasn't right! Thinking like that meant Battler had already lost!

_New_ best case scenario: he stayed in his room, and waited for the effects of the 'tea' to wear off.

"Asmodeus. How long do the effects of your 'potion' last for?"

"I don't know."

By now, Battler's nerves had been worn threadbare.

"W-what do you mean, you _don't know_? You _**made**_ it!"

"Oh yeah~ I did, didn't I?" said Asmodeus, giggling demonically, still coiling her hair round her finger. "But you obviously think I'm sooo~ooo slow and soo~oo stupid, so what's the point in asking? I guess I'm just dumb!~ Kikikiki!" And she stuck out her tongue playfully.

...Battler a sudden urge to tear her tongue out her mouth.

Well, why not?

At least he'd get some peace and quiet.

"Asmodeus."

"Yes?" she cooed.

"I am going to _murder _you."

And, with that declaration of war- which was surprisingly tranquil, almost monotone, considering the absolute train wreck that was Battler's internal thought process- Battler got up.

He dived forwards.

And then he took hold of one of Asmodeus' pigtails.

Startled out of her insane laughing fit- even though she'd been expecting physical assault from the moment she broke the news- Asmodeus shrieked. The tray that had been suspended by her side, held in the air by her force of will, dropped to the floor with a resounding clatter. The untouched bowl of rice shattered upon impact, sending shards of pottery and food everywhere.

Battler didn't care. He was too focused trying to strangle that stupid girl- who, he'd just learnt, wasn't _quite _as stupid as she appeared.

She'd certainly outsmarted him.

That alone was enough to make him red with rage, until his cheeks were almost as bright as his hair.

Sometimes, Battler hated having red hair. Whenever he blushed- which wasn't too often, thankfully enough- his whole head went crimson, and it looked like he was on fire; not at all a flattering look.

"K-kyah!" Asmodeus whined. "G-get off me! You shouldn't hurt a lady like this!"

"I'll remember that next time I see a lady here, then."

"Y-you'll regret that, Ushiromiya Battler!~"

"Not if I kill you and use your corpse as a rug first!"

"Ahh! Scary, so scary!~ Just like Beato- just like Beato!"

Asmodeus' voice had reached such a high pitch, almost beyond the hearing range for normal humans, that Battler's eardrums threatened to burst. She was so_ loud_, too, Battler could almost _feel_ the numerous exclamation marks from her deranged screams bury themselves into his skull.

"I-I'm nothing at all like Beato!"

"Oh..." Asmodeus' eyes darkened. They became wide, almost empty, like two large black holes. "Really...?"

That expression, coupled with her suddenly hollow, empty voice, was enough to make Battler pause. He shuddered.

"W-what are you talking about?"

"I think you're exactly alike," Asmodeus continued, still using that robotic tone of voice. Then, she smiled. It was an awful smile, with narrowed eyes and sharp teeth-_ far_ too many teeth. "I think you two would get along so well if you only gave it a chance. Why don't we find out?"

"Huh?"

Battler stared at Asmodeus- and then, as a shimmer of gold snagged on his peripheral vision, he suddenly knew what she was talking about.

T-that bitch!

Oh, she'd pay for this; she'd pay with her blood...

But Battler had to put his plans for revenge on hold, because already they were dissolving into golden butterflies. Battler tried to draw his hands away- but it was no use. His body was already breaking apart.

And then, a few seconds later, they'd disappeared completely.

* * *

"I look ridiculous."

"You look fine, Milady."

"No." Beatrice scowled, tugging at her 'dress'- if it could even be called that. "I look utterly moronic."

"Milady, let me assure you that you look no more moronic than usual. Pu ku ku~"

Beatrice glared up at Ronove, who was trying to suppress his laughter with his hand. It wasn't working; Beatrice could see his shoulders were shaking, just slightly, and his eyes were sharp with a cruel kind of amusement.

This was the point where the great, almighty Golden Witch, Beatrice, would raise her hand and shatter her unruly subordinate's spine into a myriad of jagged pieces.

...But Beatrice didn't do that.

Instead, she began to blush.

The... 'thing' she was wearing (Beatrice refused to call it a _dress_; a flimsy, almost see-through piece of material like that did not constitute as 'clothing') had obviously been made by Gaap. It had 'Gaap, Gaap, Gaap' written all over it. The blonde woman had a penchant for creating bizarre, Frankenstein's monster type outfits, with huge ribbons tied here, sleeves hacked off there, skirts so short they were non-existent and large, gaping, empty holes in suggestive places that were really quite impractical. Beatrice didn't much if _Gaap _wore clothes like that; Gaap could put whatever she wanted on her _own _body- even if it wasn't a lot. However, when Gaap stole all of Beatrice's existing clothes- most of which were long, flowing dresses with complex designs and low necklines- and filled her wardrobe up with her own insane creations instead (many of which looked like they'd been hacked at by some drunken lunatic with a pair of scissors- which, Beatrice suspected, was_ exactly _how Gaap created most of her 'clothes' to begin with) then that was a completely different matter.

Beatrice was going to _**murder**_ Gaap when she next saw her.

Or, at least, she **would**- if she could figure out how to move properly in the stupid, skin-tight 'thing' clenched around her chest and hips like an elastic band. Beatrice was sure, even without the aid of red truth, that any sudden movements would tear her 'outfit' to shreds, right down the middle.

She blushed even harder at the thought of that.

Unlike usual, Beatrice's hair hadn't been coiled into its elegant bun. Ronove had combed out her hair and tied up it for her, but it looked so stupid- such a strange contrast between her beautiful hair and her ugly 'dress'- that Beatrice had torn the pins out forcefully with her own fingers, raking her hands through her hair until it was a long, wavy mess once more.

Beatrice hadn't wanted to wear any of Gaap's outfits at all. Especially not after she'd found that condescending note pinned to her wardrobe, in Gaap's unmistakable, scrawly, looks-like-a-bunch-of-drunken-spiders-playing-tag-rather-than-any-actual-letters handwriting.

'_Hey, Riche!~ Tehehe!_

_Oh, wait I can't be too polite. Ahem._

_RICHE. I am TOTALLY pissed off because you ate the strawberry from my cheesecake, and that's, like, THE BEST PART. YOU CUT ME DEEP, RIICHE. YOU CUT ME DEEEEPPP._

_I need to teach you a lesson, little sister._

_I hope you like the clothes I picked out for you!~ Use them wisely, and maybe you can be as sexy as me (hahahaha not likely!~ Oh my gosh I'm hilarious!~) But maybe Battler will like seeing you in these clothes? He's a repressed teenager; he needs something pretty to stare at, and, well, the world can't be filled with Gaaps to cater for everybody's needs!~_

_Oh yeah, and don't even TRY to look for your old clothes, or summon any new ones; I KNOW YOU TOO WELL, and I placed a bunch of defensive magic about the meta world for such an event; SO YEAH HAVE FUN GYAHAHAHAHA._

_If you come back and apologize to your big sister and bring me some more cake maybe we can sort something out~_

_~Gaap_

_P.S. Ronove's going to laugh at you._

_Lia's going to laugh at you._

_I'M LAUGHING AT YOU, HA HA __**HA.**_

_BUT DON'T HURT US, OKAY?_

_We'll all one big happy family and AI LAHV YOU REALLY!~'_

That note alone had made Beatrice quiver with rage, until the vision of strangling Gaap became almost heavenly.

Beatrice knew, if she wore any of the too short/too tight/too frilly/too wispy abominations Gaap had so 'lovingly' prepared for her, then that blonde, smirking demon would have won. But Beatrice could hardly wear her night dress; the mere thought of that was enough to send a blush to her cheeks so red it looked like her face was on fire. And, true to Gaap's promise in her note, Beatrice had been unable to summon any clothes more suitable to her liking. Beatrice didn't even know what Gaap had _done_, so how could she reverse it?

In the end, Beatrice finally picked out the dress that covered the most flesh (which was like trying to find a needle in another stack of needles; i.e. impossible), threw things at Ronove to calm herself down (it didn't help), and then took her usual seat in the white, circular room she and Battler drank tea and played 'chess' in as though nothing was wrong.

Beatrice could overcome this.

Gaap wouldn't defeat her!

Neither would Ronove, with his raised brows and cutting comments.

Not even Battler, who-

...But the moment Beatrice thought of Battler, she cringed.

"It's a wonder, really, that Miss Gaap managed to write so much when she was obviously drunk," said Ronove speculatively, holding Gaap's note to Beatrice's face so the Golden Witch could inspect it herself.

"Her handwriting always looks that awful."

"No, it's distinctly more legible than usual," said Ronove. He smiled. "I suppose Miss Gaap was trying her best when she set her plan in motion to torment you."

"I hate her."

"I suppose it goes to show," Ronove continued (at this point, the pair were both having completely separate monologues; Ronove was musing over Gaap's handwriting, whilst Beatrice muttered death threats that grew darker and darker as her blush deepened) "that people can do incredible things when driven to it. I must admire Miss Gaap's persistent determination to be the most irritating demon in the meta world, even whilst drunk."

"I'm going to kill her. Kill her kill her kill her kill her kill-"

"-YOU, ASMODEUS, AND THEN I'M GOING TO TEAR OUT YOUR EYES AND USE THEM FOR A GAME OF MARBLES!"

"Uwahhh! Scary! Battler's so scary!~"

Beatrice winced.

"Oh God, what now?"

In answer to her question, the grappling, fighting forms of Battler and Asmodeus materialized in the room. Battler's fingers were curled round Asmodeus' hair, whilst Asmodeus was trying to jam her elbow in Battler's stomach. Instead of hitting his stomach, however, she managed to catch the table instead.

"Ow! Owie owie owie!" Asmodeus squealed, wincing from the impact with the hard, unyielding table leg.

"It serves you right for being such a bitch!" Battler retorted. "Don't go teleporting people around without their permission- it's such an UNDERHANDED attack, and- ow, fuck!"

Asmodeus recovered from her bruised elbow almost immediately, and countered by stabbing one of her thumbs at Battler's left eye.

"It serves you right for being such a PUS-HEAD!" Asmodeus said childishly. "You don't pull a girl's hair!"

"And you don't spike a guy's drink!"

"And you don't steal a girl's food!"

"It was MY FOOD to begin with!"

"You started it!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"YOU DID!"

"I never!"

"Well!" Asmodeus yelled, spreading her arms wide an overly theatrical motion. She put so much force behind it that it nearly cleaved Battler's head off. Truly, Zepar and Furfur would've been envious of such dramatic gestures- and those creepy twins epitomized the phrase 'ham actors'. "Why don't we ask BEATO what she thinks then, hmn? Why don't you just look her in the face and ask her right now?"

"Alright!" Battler snapped back. "I will!"

He turned...

And, the in a sudden burst of memory, he let out a pained yelp, and clapped his hands across his eyes. For some reason, he didn't believe shutting them would be enough.

He couldn't look at Beatrice.

He _couldn't._

Battler still wasn't sure whether Asmodeus' claims she'd slipped him a 'love potion' were true, but he wasn't in a hurry to test it out. The thought of following Beatrice around, lovesick, like a schoolgirl with a crush, was so embarrassing Battler could feel his face heat up.

"Gyahahaha!" Asmodeus laughed. It was not at all a ladylike laugh; instead, it sounded like she was slowly drowning, whilst being stuck full of pins at the same time. "Moron, moron!~ Have fun flailing around with your eyes closed, Us~hi~ro~mi~ya Bahh~ttler!"

Then, like a slate being wiped clean, Asmodeus' expression melted off her face. It was replaced with a cute, girlish smile. It matched her pigtails perfectly.

She turned to look and Beatrice and, with a small, curtsey, said; "I apologize if I was being too unruly, Milady. I was just teaching Battler a lesson. Oh, and I like your dress. It suits you."

And then, in a shower of golden butterflies, Asmodeus vanished.

In her wake, she left behind one very confused/embarrassed Beatrice in a highly revealing dress, one obviously amused Ronove who at this point was no longer bothering to conceal his laughter, and one poor, blinded Ushiromiya Battler, who was keeping his hands pressed against his closed eyes as though his life depended on it.

And, maybe, it did.

* * *

**a/n: **My God this fic is so cracky I don't even XD Well, the pairing alone should be indicative of that XDD~  
This fic is really, really fun to write.  
I mean, really.  
Despite the insanity, I hope everyone is IC (or, at least, vaguely) XDD~

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	4. My feelings, they're mixed

**An Unfortunate Outcome  
**Chapter Four

'My feelings, they're mixed'

* * *

"...That's just pathetic."

"I'm afraid- cruel though it may be- I would have to agree with you, Milady. Pu ku ku~"

Before Battler had made his 'grand' entrance, one hand wrapped round Asmodeus' pigtail whilst the other tried to put out her eye, Beatrice had been... almost _afraid _of seeing him. Well- no, she hadn't bee 'afraid'! The word didn't feature in the great Golden Witch, Beatrice's, vocabulary! But... she _had _been a tad embarrassed...

And, irritatingly enough, 'embarrassment' _was _a word Beatrice was well acquainted with.

Mainly because of Gaap.

It was impossible being acquainted with Gaap without being horribly embarrassed by her at some point. You just had to ask Virgilia for confirmation of that; and Virgilia was generally pretty hard to fluster. It was like trying to get a rise out of a brick wall; but, with her sly, cunning nature, her superfluous ability to blackmail, and her inexhaustible stock of inappropriate outfits, Gaap always managed it.

Beatrice didn't even know why she was friends with her. Just because Gaap was funny, and a good drinking partner, and intelligent, and strangely considerate at times, not to mention it was better having Gaap as a friend rather than an enemy, because as a friend she was irritating and as an enemy she was insufferable (as the various members of Eiserne Jungfrau knew only too well whenever Gaap ransacked their offices, hid important papers and frequently stole the hat of their newest recruit 'just for fun oh, and because they're totally stuck-up. Gyahaha').

...Actually, that was a pretty long, extensive list of reasons why Beatrice was her friend; and she'd have been stupid to sever an alliance with Gaap.

Beatrice sighed.

But that didn't mean she had to like her.

Sometimes, she downright despised her.

And, at that moment, Beatrice loathed every single particle of Gaap's being, from the dirt under her talon-like red fingernails to each individual, crazily curled, spring-like spiralling hair on her head.

Above all, Beatrice hated Gaap's inelegant fashion sense- or, to be more precise, she hated Gaap's inelegant fashion sense being hoisted upon _her._ This (as Ronove pointed out, only to receive a death glare so cutting it could've caused a physical wound) was just a little ironic, considering Beatrice had no problem _acting _in a very inelegant, vulgar manner; so why not wear the clothes to go with it? But Beatrice was still the Golden Witch, and she still had her image to think of- and she couldn't be seen wearing clothes that Gaap had made! Especially not clothes Gaap had made whilst drunk with a pair of scissors (that was never a good combination- kind of like Beezlebub and kitchens. Putting one with the other was inviting trouble, either in the form of outrageous outfits or blown up cooking pots).

True to Gaap's 'friendly' letter, Ronove _had_ laughed at her- and he was her butler. Sure, he tried to be respectful and hide it- but he didn't try hard enough, and it was obvious he thought the whole situation was hilarious.

If Ronove had laughed at her, then what would Battler do?

Beatrice's face had gone cherry blossom pink at the mere thought of it (well, in Beatrice's mind it was 'cherry blossom pink', because that was a pleasant color- but, in reality, it was bright red like undercooked meat. But that didn't have the same ring to it).

Beatrice's resolve to murder Gaap had increased tenfold.

But, when Ushiromiya Battler _had _finally appeared...

Well.

All of Beatrice's fears (not that she'd been afraid) had been for nothing.

Battler had been _far_ too busy trying to prize Asmodeus' head off her shoulders to pay even one ounce of attention to the flustered witch in her high-backed chair. Battler hadn't even _looked _at her. That was like adding salt to Beatrice's already stinging wounds; there she was, dressed up so revealing she might not have been wearing anything at all, and Ushiromiya Battler- a teenage boy- had _actually _been too busy scuffling with **Asmodeus **to pay her any attention.

Did it really not matter what she wore?

Did Battler not care?

S-sure, Beatrice didn't want him to get the wrong idea, or start harboring disgusting romantic feelings towards her... But she didn't want him to completely ignore her, either! Beatrice felt a little like a girl who'd spent hours and hours sifting through clothes in her wardrobe, struggling to choose the perfect attire to impress her boyfriend- and then, when she finally met up with him, he spent the whole date staring at his own hands, twiddling his thumbs.

Okay, the two situations were completely different. Beatrice didn't want to impress Battler! What did she care what he thought? He should have been impressed by her beautiful looks, amazing personality, etc, etc (the amazingly awesome list of Beatrice's greatest assets- complied by Beatrice herself in a bout of boredom- was so extensive it would've taken enough paper from twelve trees to write down) _anyway._

But, even so, Beatrice still felt annoyed.

Was tha_t it?_

Was Battler just going to close his eyes and pretend she wasn't there?

That... pissed her off...

And, torn between being annoyed Battler wasn't looking at her in her revealing outfit, and being incredibly _relieved _Battler wasn't looking at her in her revealing outfit, Beatrice didn't know quite what to do.

Except maim things.

That always seemed to calm her down.

"B-battler!" Beatrice snapped, her eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. "What are you doing? Open your eyes and stop floundering about like a fish, or I swear I-"

But Beatrice didn't have a chance to tell Battler what she'd do.

"I-I'm sorry, Beato!" Battler said, his face flushed dark red. "B-but I really have to go..."

"Go where?"

There was a small pause. Battler looked down at the floor, hands still clapped over his eyes. He looked shifty, as though he'd just murdered his best friend's dog when their family was away on holiday and he'd promised to look after it, and now he was trying to find a decent place to bury said dead dog in the forest somewhere.

Beatrice wasn't really sure why such a long-winded simile popped into her head- or, indeed, if anybody had really been in a situation like that before (Battler didn't look like the responsible sort of person; Beatrice wouldn't have trusted him to look after an _amoeba_, let alone an actual household pet)- but it seemed to fit his expression perfectly.

"U-um..." Battler mumbled incoherently. "U-um... Just, somewhere, okay? Somewhere."

"That doesn't answer my question!"

"You never give me straight answers either! I thought I'd just extend the courtesy."

"U-urgh..." Beatrice made a noise of disgust, as though she'd stepped in something extremely unpleasant. "Y-you... You have no right to talk to me like that!"

"And you have no right to be so... so... like YOU, but you know what? You are anyway!"

Beatrice opened her mouth to shout back another acid-laden response; but, before she could, she felt something obstruct her mouth. They were hands. Somebody had their hands on her mouth.

Beatrice's first response was anger.

H-how dare they! How dare they stifle the death threats of the great Golden Witch, Beatrice? Nobody had a right to interfere with her- nobody! She'd turn them into a newt!

(Incidentally, she'd do far worse than a spot of friendly shape-shifting and transmogrification to her 'cool big sis' Gaap when she finally laid her hands on her, but that was a different matter altogether.)

But when Beatrice looked up, blue eyes stuck somewhere between being narrowed in fury and wide with surprise (the end result almost made it look like she'd run into a brick wall- which wasn't too different from her normal facial expressions), she saw Ronove stood over her. Her butler had one hand over her mouth, the index finger of his free hand pressed to his lips in a 'shh' motion.

But Ushiromiya Battler had already gone.

"_R-ronove," _Beatrice growled, pushing her impudent butler away. "What was that for?"

"For? Whatever could you mean?"

Beatrice scoffed. Ronove trying to pull the wide-eyed innocent act was almost as laughable as Virgilia trying to play the evil villain; neither of them could do it convincingly enough, and Beatrice knew them too well to be fooled by their acting skills- even if both were fairly proficient at lying. It was a skill that seemed to come hand in hand with being a witch or demon.

Then, the Golden Witch sighed. She tried to scowl and look angry- really, she did- but her heart just wasn't in it.

There something almost soul-draining about wearing such a ridiculous outfit. She missed having her hair tied up, out of her face, with her elegant, heavy gown weighting down her body; she barely felt like herself unless she was dressed to fit the part. And Battler's response had hurt too, somehow...

She pouted.

"Why'd you have to interfere?" Beatrice muttered. "I was going to tell Battler exactly what I thought of him... I was..."

"And that, Milady, is precisely why I intervened," said Ronove. He smiled. "You have the incredible talent of being able to say exactly what you _don't_ mean at the _worst_ possible of times. It's so astounding I feel I should applaud it."

"I-I _**can**_ talk to people! I know... how to interact with others..."

"And you know how to offend and them insult them even more," Ronove said. "You seem to enjoy making others miserable, Milady; but, by extension, this only makes you more aggravated with yourself. Am I right? Pu ku ku~"

Of course, by that laugh, Ronove was sure _he _was right.

So he thought he knew the situation? That he could analyze feelings with the same precision and accuracy the Chiester honor guards could analyze anomalies in the terrain?

...The irritating thing was that he was right.

Absolutely right.

Beatrice didn't like arguing with Battler all the time. They were enemies, true, but she didn't really _hate_ Battler- and she certainly hoped he didn't hate her. Hating each other would have made their 'game' far easier, but Beatrice liked challenges, and that only made their game more interesting. Beatrice respected her opponent, in her own strange way, and she only wanted Battler to return the favor.

Calling him all the names under the sun and cackling in his face at his every misfortune might _not _have been the best way to be appealing, though.

...Not that she cared what he thought.

Obviously.

"I'm sure, if you leant to think before you opened your mouth, Milady, people would find you far more endearing."

"And if _you _learnt to think before you opened _your_ mouth, I wouldn't be half so tempted to hurt you all the time."

"I'm sure Miss Gaap ranks higher on your list of poor souls to maim and kill for the moment, however?"

"Well, yeah. If I can find her," said Beatrice, folding her arms. "Until then, you'll be a more than acceptable substitute. M'gonna break you limb from limb, chew toy~"

Ronove responded to this rather serious death threat with an airy laugh. He held his hands in front of his face, as though trying to ward off some attack (even if Beatrice hadn't hit him yet, the chances were very high she would do so in the future. As such, it really was best for your self-preservation if you stood in defensive stance naturally when around Beatrice; it made you a less easy target).

"If I found Miss Gaap for you, would you consider forgiving me for being so impertinent?"

"Maybe..." said Beatrice. She looked down at her lap. "Or... Maybe you could talk to... To..."

Beatrice's face flushed.

"To...?" Ronove prompted- even though it was obvious who was referring to. He was just trying to make her squirm.

Beatrice drew herself up, stupid dress and messy hair be damned, and tried to force some authority into her voice.

"T-to Battler, of course! I still need to yell at him for being an idiot."

"Ah. Now that is something you excel at."

"I know. I thought, why not play to my strengths?" said Beatrice. And, even though she was frustrated and embarrassed and maybe, just maybe, a little bit upset, she managed to smirk. "You better bring him back here. I won't let his stupidity go unpunished; and I don't want him messing around with the seven sisters! They're not play things; they're my furniture! Only _**I**_ have the authority to abuse you."

"And what, may I ask, if bATTLER doesn't want to go with me?"

"You're a demon," said Beatrice casually, waving her hand at Ronove. "You'll figure something out. I know you can be pretty persuasive. Just make sure you get Ushiromiya Battler back here."

"Certainly, Milady."

Ronove bowed. Even though the movement was respectful, he was still smiling- and Beatrice didn't like that smile, not one bit.

"Just remember, Milady- if you truly wish to make amends with Battler, it would be best to lay off the death threats and insane laughter. Just for a while."

At these words, Beatrice felt herself flush.

"I-I don't...! I-I... really!"

"Pu ku ku~ If you say so... Although, of course, your words don't count for much when they're not spoken in red, do they?"

And, with that comment, Ronove disappeared. He left a very agitated, red-faced Golden Witch behind, all alone, shouting obscenities at a person who could no longer hear her.

* * *

"Battler~ I found you~"

At the sound of that voice, Battler's shoulders tensed.

Shit. It really couldn't have been anybody but _him_, could it? No, of course not; Battler's life liked to make itself as difficult as possible, just so it could spite him. Wasn't it bad enough he had to watch people he knew and cared about suffer illogical and improbable deaths over and over again, just because some self-important, borderline insane (in fact, there was no 'borderline' about it- not when Beatrice laughed like she usually did. 'Inelegant' didn't even begin to cover it. A whole dictionary would've have been enough to cover it) woman had delusions of being witch?

Apparently not.

Just to make everything that little bit more 'exciting', Battler's feelings needed to be messed about with by scantily clad serial killers just because he ate some food that belonged to _him_.

And now- even though Battler couldn't open his eyes (he wasn't suicidal) he still knew, by that light, teasing tone of voice that could only belong to one person (there were only two male people in the meta world anyway; it was a simple matter of deduction working out who it was)- Ronove had come to irritate him, as well. And Ronove was quite proficient at doing that.

Battler scowled.

He didn't want this. He couldn't deal with this- not now.

Battler always felt uneasy- off guard- whenever he had his eyes closed around the inhabitants of the meta world, and he made a point of being alert at all times. He even tried to sleep with one eye open, in case Beelzebub/Asmodeus (they were as bad each other, and oftentimes seemed to merge into one being made of pure irritation and short skirts. Could he christen this unholy fusion Beelzedeus? Asmobub?) launched a surprise attack on him. But now keeping his eyes closed was instrumental to his _survival_. Battler still wasn't sure whether Asmodeus had been telling the truth or not, but he'd seen so many ridiculous things a 'love potion' didn't sound _too _implausible (the idea Asmodeus had enough smarts in her pea-sized brain to make one, however, was), and he didn't want to push his luck.

Plus, the mere idea of falling in love with _Ronove_, of all people, was just...

Urgh.

That the was only way Battler could sum up his feelings.

He shuddered.

"This is my room," said Battler pointedly, turning his back on Beatrice's butler (at least... he thought he was doing that. What if he was actually turning the face Ronove? ...Battler didn't much like the sensation of being blind; especially not when with somebody he half expected to try and molest him) "So you should, y'know, get out."

"I apologize for being so impolite. I should have knocked; however, the usual method of transportation is more direct, so... Pu ku ku~"

It was amazing, really, how insincere all of Ronove's apologies sounded. Most people had to actively _try_ to sound as untrustworthy as that; but, for Ronove, it seemed it came naturally. Battler could almost hear the smirk in his voice.

"I hate those golden butterflies," Battler muttered.

"However, I fear worse events than invaded privacy would occur if I merely left you here by yourself."

"Oh yeah, I am so sure," said Battler, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "Of _course _you're only here for my own good- even though you're one of Beato's weird friends and your smile really _creeps me out._ What's not to trust?_"_

"Hmn~ That is a pity. I think you're quite charming, Battler."

"Haha, yeahhh. I bet you do."

_Freak._

"It is not for my own sake I'm here, though- even if it is pleasant spending time your company," said Ronove amicably, as though he and Battler were just the best of friends. "I'm afraid your previous actions upset Milady somewhat- although... Pu ku ku..." He began to laugh softly. Even though it was fairly refined, almost musical, it send chills down Battler's spine. "Milady was already in a foul mood this morning. I believe you fanned the flames of her fire, so to speak."

"Well, I'm so~rry Asmobub are complete head cases."

"...Asmobub?"

"Asmodeus and Beezlebub," Battler explained, voice deadpan. "They're, like, the same exact person anyway- so why not group them together? It makes it easier- I don't have to pretend I can tell them apart."

"If you spend as much time in the kitchen as me, you'd soon find it impossible to mistake Beelzebub for anyone else. She spends half her life there, I swear," said Ronove, humor laced through his words. "Although... 'Asmobub' does have quite a ring to it."

"Doesn't it though? Maybe I should do that with the other sisters, too."

"They might not appreciate it. Miss Satan, in particular; she is easily frustrated by the smallest of inconveniences. I doubt she'd enjoy being grouped together with her sisters- she believes herself above them."

"I don't blame her that she gets pissed off so easily. I often feel the same when I'm with you people."

"Well, quite. Pu ku ku~ Out of curiosity; are 'Asmobub', as you so charmingly called them, the reasons behind your bizarre behavior?"

"It's not bizarre," said Battler defensively, folding his arms.

"I beg to differ~"

Battler could feel Ronove drawing closer, even though he wasn't sure how he knew; and then, seconds later, he felt fingertips gently brush his cheeks, stopping gently at his closed eyelids.

"This is hardly normal, is it?" Ronove asked speculatively, one hand cupping Battler's cheek, his fingertips still pressed softly- far too softly for it to hurt, the pressure so light and non-existent his fingers might not have been there at all- against Battler's eyelids. "Can you explain why you've taken to keeping your eyes closed? Or perhaps this is some strange hobby of yours...?"

"A-ah..."

Battler knew he was flushing.

Even with his eyes closed, Battler could sense just how close Ronove was to him- and the proximity was alarming. The light, almost _tender, _caress against his cheek wasn't helping- and neither was the strange sensation of Ronove's breath ghosting across his skin.

"G-get off."

Battler meant for his voice to sound strong, unshakable, but it didn't created the desired effect. Instead, he _stuttered._

"Certainly. When you tell me what, exactly, 'Asmobub' did. You've piqued my interest."

But Battler would rather eat arsenic than tell that damn butler Asmobub had, between them, managed to spike his tea with 'love potion'. That would just be _**inviting**_ mockery. And if Ronove knew about Battler's latest humiliation, it would only be a matter of time before he told Beatrice. And, knowing Beatrice, she'd try and warp that into some sort of elaborate plan, which would inevitably leave Battler broken and twisted, like an interesting modern art sculpture.

"It doesn't matter."

"I rather think it does~"

"N-ngh... Damn it..."

"You see, saying things like that only confirm my suspicions. Have I hit a nerve?"

"Argh!"

With a short, sharp sound of distress, Battler tried to push Ronove away- but the simple motion was made surprisingly awkward with his eyes closed, and Battler faltered, as his fist was intercepted by Ronove's hand.

That damn butler had blocked his attack.

And, to add insult to injury, he'd caught hold of him.

"If you weren't so very stubborn this would be far easier," said Ronove. Then, he laughed again- his strange, unsettling laugh, that made warning sirens go off in Battler's mind. "Then again, I suppose that is why Milady enjoys your company. And, I must say, I find it quite invigorating, too... Pu ku ku~ Ah, maybe I'm beginning to get a little jealous. You always spend so much time in her company... How upsetting."

"D-don't say things like tha- ahh..."

And then Battler's voice broke off in a hybrid cry of surprise, pain, and something else he couldn't quite place, as he felt arms encircling his shoulders- and then Ronove really was much, much, _much _too close- and he felt teeth bite down, with the same gentleness that had been used to cup his cheek, down his earlobe.

It didn't hurt.

But it was enough.

Dazed, lost in his own confusion, Battler's previous resolution completely escaped his mind. He could hardly remember why his eyes were closed to begin with; wasn't that stupid, when he needed to push Ronove away?

And so, without thinking...

Battler opened his eyes.

Opened them to see Ronove moving away from him- though his arms still round Battler's shoulders. Ronove was smirking, his eyes narrowed, so blue and sharp it felt as though they were piercing through Battler's skin- his very being.

"See?" Ronove said, his fingers moving to cup Battler's cheek once more, tilting his head upwards so their eyes were looking directly into the other's. "That wasn't so difficult, was it?"

But, inwardly, Battler's mind was reeling.

His heartbeat had increased tenfold.

And... what were those strange, warm feelings bubbling up inside, as he looked, eyes unabashedly wide, at Ronove...?

_Oh God._

_I hate my life._

* * *

**a/n: **:D  
Why I like this pairing so much will forever be a mystery, even to me XD~  
There's still tote some BeatoBattler in the beginning, though, because I can't resist tsundere Beato and I like that pairing too (it's, like, canon, y'know XD)

It'd probably be in Ronove's best interests if he stopped teasing Battler now XD

**~renahhchen xoxoxo**


	5. How strange

**An Unfortunate Outcome  
**Chapter Five

'How strange'

* * *

"Battler?"

Ronove's voice was soft, almost comforting- even if there was the faintest trace of light-hearted teasing thrown in. But it wasn't enough to ease Battler's mind.

Battler _never_ felt at ease around Ronove- but this time his feelings of dread were several times worse than usual. Battler's eyes were still too large, his heart still hammering, cheeks still painted bright red by a sudden influx of blood.

Ronove's long, gloved fingers were pressed against Battler's cheek, his thumb tipping his head upwards, so their eyes could bore into the others. Ronove's gaze was far too intense, and Battler had a strong urge to look away, pull away, close his eyes and shake his head and try to make excuses for his blush ("I-It's not because I like you, okay? I-i-it's just kind of hot right now...") like- _urgh_- like a girl with a _crush _or something.

But Battler couldn't move.

Save the frequent shudders that ran up and down his spine, crawling under his flesh, he was completely immobile.

He couldn't even move his fingertips.

"...Battler?" Ronove asked once more, frowning slightly- though he didn't move his fingers, didn't move anyway. If anything, he got even closer- and Battler felt his heartbeat give a fierce slam against his ribcage, with such force he wouldn't have been surprised if one of his ribs shattered.

Battler tried to speak, but he couldn't.

His thoughts had no outlet- so, instead, they coursed through his mind, running into one another until Battler was sure the contents of his skull resembled a twelve car pile-up on the freeway, with destruction and fire and screaming abound.

If Asmodeus had been telling the truth, and she really had given him a 'love potion' (it sounded so ridiculous Battler couldn't even think it without his mind providing the little quotation marks of disbelief for him), then...

Well…

What then?

Did that mean he was going to fall in love with _Ronove_?

...That thought was so disturbing it made Battler feel ill.

When Battler had been musing over the best and worst case scenarios of Asmobub's 'little prank', he hadn't even _considered _that he could- potentially- fall in love with _Ronove. _Battler wasn't sure why that was; maybe he found the idea so illogical he couldn't even begin to process it- not even in a harmless 'what if' scenario- or, maybe, he just didn't _want _to think about something like that, because it'd give him a headache; even more so than trying to find the killer on Rokkenjima and defeat the illusion of the witch.

But Battler _had _to think about this possibility now, because it was- all of a sudden- very real and very imminent.

Ronove was only a few inches away from him, and Battler couldn't even move.

He couldn't even blink.

_Useless... This is so useless..._

_First, I get pushed around Beato, and now __**this**__?_

_How is THIS fair?_

_This is the complete OPPOSITE of fair! It's like some higher deity up there is laughing at me, eating popcorn!_

"This... Is an unexpected reaction..." said Ronove. His voice was softer than snowflakes landing on the ground- and it slowly trailed away into silence.

Nothing.

Battler could hear his own heartbeat with alarming acuteness as Ronove's fingers slowly, almost curiously, pressed against his flushed cheeks.

Battler flinched, recoiling slightly- both from the increased contact, and from the strange deluge of pretty nature imagery that was beginning to fill his head.

_What are you __talking about__, you __**moron**__? _Battler's inner voice snapped at him. For whatever reason, it sounded eerily like Beatrice. Oh, great- so now his mind was going to start cackling at him and calling him incompetent with red text, too?

_Why are you comparing this guy to __snow__, of all things?_

_This is so incredibly, painfully awkward it BURNS._

_My face is literally BURNING._

"I shudder to think what Miss Asmodeus and Miss Beelzebub did to you," said Ronove, leaning forwards slightly (too close- far, _far _too close!). "What could have triggered such an interesting response, I wonder?"

And, through his haze of confusion, anger, and some strange new emotion Battler desperately wanted to squish under his heel before it became any more pronounced, Battler managed to mutter, "I-interesting...?"

In response, Ronove gently prodded Battler in the cheek. "This."

"T-this?"

Battler was beginning to feel like a parrot.

"You're blushing."

Battler had half a mind to say he wasn't- which, of course, would have been an obvious lie; almost like saying the sky was pink or witches existed. So Battler swallowed those words (he would've sounded even _more _pathetic if he tried to deny something even a blind person could've noticed), and- in turn- tried to swallow down the volatile mix of emotions that were bubbling up inside him.

"Y-yeah. I guess I am." Was Battler's eventual reply.

Despite Battler's unease, he still didn't break eye contact with Ronove. Somehow, he got the feeling he'd appear weak- afraid, maybe- if he looked away first; and Battler didn't want that. It was bad enough he was already blushing like a schoolgirl. He didn't want to make the situation any worse.

Then again, it couldn't really _get_ much worse.

_That's right, try and be optimistic._

Ronove continued to look at Battler, his eyes narrowed with concentration, searching- searching for what, though, Battler didn't know.

"W-what do you want?" Battler asked, trying to inject some venom into his voice.

"Honestly, I'm... unsure," Ronove replied. "I expected you to hit me- you see, I was more than willing to sacrifice my good looks if my untoward behaviour could pull you out of your strange mood. Pu ku ku~" Ronove laughed, perhaps a little self-deprecatingly- and, somehow, that made him sound so sincere Battler's blush only increased. Ronove's proximity wasn't helping matters, either.

But Battler refused to give in, or look away.

It didn't matter if Ronove _sounded _sincere. Chances were, it was probably a lie; another attempt to catch him off-guard.

"Ihihihi. Like... like I think _you're_ attractive," said Battler, rolling his eyes at the idea.

Ronove gave a sigh of mock defeat, pressing his fingers against his chest as though he'd been injured.

"Your cruel words are quite cutting, Battler. I'm hurt."

"My heart bleeds for you."

"I'm not so sure about that~ All the blood in your body seems to be concentrated-" Ronove lightly prodded one of Battler's cheeks again "-right _here_."

Battler trembled, a leaf caught in the breeze, as Ronove's fingertips began to trace a line down his cheek, moving to cup his jaw once more, with such care you'd have thought he was handling something incredibly fragile and expensive.

"A-ah..."

"If my good looks aren't the cause for your flustered state- which would be quite disappointing, I'll admit- then... what is?" Ronove asked, his voice dropping in volume until Battler could hardly hear him. That strange smile playing across lips- too caring to be a smirk, too dangerous to be completely innocent- made Battler shudder.

Ronove tilted his head to one side.

"What could it be, I wonder? Would you care to enlighten me, hmn~?"

"I-it's nothing, really. Nothing," said Battler hastily. He would have shaken his head, or maybe thrown his arms akimbo, to accompany his denial- but he couldn't quite remember how to move.

"It doesn't look like nothing~"

"Y-you..." Battler narrowed his eyes, incensed at Ronove's playful words. "Y-you're _enjoying_ this, aren't you?"

"It _is_ fun having you all to myself for a change~ I like making you squirm," Ronove admitted freely, laughing. "I understand why Milady likes you so much~"

"Well, I don't understand why Beato keeps _you_ around," Battler retorted. "Y-you're such a creep."

"And yet you're not trying to push me away- which I was convinced you would. Why is that, I wonder?~"

"N-no reason!"

"Hmn~" Ronove made a small noise of curiosity, leaning in just a little closer- and Battler hadn't even been sure, given their positions, that was physically possible, but it was, because Ronove had just invaded his personal space more completely than he ever had done before. The concept of 'personal space' didn't even exist anymore; it was now in tatters, as Ronove's fingers held Battler's face in place and his lips gently brushed Battler's ear.

"Let's see if I can't get a more natural response from you then, shall me?" Ronove whispered into Battler's ear, his voice lower than usual. "This will be fun, won't it?~"

"Y-you sick, twisted fu- ah... ahh..."

Battler couldn't bite back his gasp quickly enough. Then again, he had a right to be surprised- anybody would've been.

Ronove had bitten his ear again- with slightly more force than last time.

Battler's fingers curled into fists at the contact. It felt like he'd been electrocuted- and, all of a sudden, his skin felt incredibly sensitive, almost painfully so. A single drop of falling rain, landing on his bare skin, could've procured a sigh from him in that condition.

But what Ronove was doing was rather more intense than that.

And yet, despite his initial disgust, his anger, his overwhelming desire to escape-

Battler... didn't... push Ronove away.

Why was that?

Why?

Battler didn't want to think about the answer too much. It'd only give him a headache; and he had Asmobub, Beatrice, and every other inhabitant of the meta world (with the possible exception of Virgilia) to do that for him anyway. If he began tormenting _himself_ with his own haze of confused, half-formed thoughts, they'd be out of jobs.

So, instead of thinking, Battler's brain seemed to shut down altogether. His eyelids flickered, then fell shut- but not of his own accord, no; it was more like his body was responding automatically, and his brain had no input on the matter at all- and he couldn't help but sigh as Ronove's lips trailed light, barely-there kisses against his cheek.

Battler's heartbeat was so frantic, erratic, he could almost _feel_ it having a seizure inside his chest.

Was this going to be how he died? From a heart attack?

...That would be really, really pathetic.

He'd spent all that time trying to defeat Beatrice, to prove her insane magical scenarios ere human tricks- of course, anybody could've cut open his relatives' stomachs and stuffed them with candy, that was perfectly _normal_, right?- and now he was going to lose, all because Beato's fucking butler couldn't keep his hands (or his mouth... or his tongue… Battler shuddered) to himself.

Well, screw it.

Battler's relatives wouldn't be too happy, wouldn't they, if they knew. Battler _had_ been fighting for their behalf- but now he was just going to sit there, and let the enemy take advantage of him...

Besides, Beatrice'd probably be pre~tty pissed off herself if she didn't get the chance to tear Battler apart, limb from limb, with her own bare hands.

Who knew- maybe she'd punish Ronove for acting 'out of line'. In fact, he was so far over the 'line' the 'line' was now a speck in the distance; it didn't exist anymore, and held no sway over his actions- and Battler had no idea how to react.

And then Battler felt Ronove's mouth against his own.

Battler's mind screamed: _OH MY GOD. WHAT ARE YOU DOING._

It wasn't a question, because Battler already knew- and it was just a _tad_ difficult mistaking Ronove's actions for anything other than kissing. Because that was what it was, Battler's mind unhelpfully clarified, as more of those embarrassing, needy moans were drawn from his mouth before he could stuff them back in. Definitely kissing. But, somehow, it didn't make any sense- Battler couldn't force it to make any sense- and his strange, mixed-up emotions of surprise, disgust, and something else altogether that made Battler lean into Ronove's touch before his mind had even registered what was happening didn't make it any better.

If anything, it made it worse.

_And I thought my day couldn't __get__ any worse._

_Well, ha ha._

_What an optimist I am._

But Battler knew he had to move.

Quickly.

Before he actually started to... enjoy it...

But maybe it was a little too late for that.

When the mist and fog of jumbled musings and partially nonsensical, staccato sentence fragments began to clear in his head, Battler found he was- somehow- leaning into Ronove's touch, sighing, lips parted...

And he was kissing back.

_...Shit._

_I'm guessing Asmodeus was telling the truth after all- because there's no way in hell I'd feel like __this__ about Ronove usually!_

_What the hell am I doing?_

_I didn't start denying Beato's existence just so I could try and eat the face of her creepy butler!_

_This isn't going to help me solve any mysteries, is it?_

_If I were Jessica, or George, or Aunt Rosa, or Aunt Natsuhi, or Shannon, or Kyrie, or that old bastard- or, hell, even Ange- I would be __incredibly__ pissed off at me right now._

_Stop making out with Beato's butler and start trying to solve those closed room mysteries!_

But...

That didn't change the fact being kissed by Ronove, and kissing him in return, felt (to use an incredibly inadequate word, because Battler's brain had turned to mush and he wasn't capable of forming full sentences anymore) _nice._

Well, to look at it from another perspective (to turn the chess board over- ha ha), it certainly didn't feel _bad_.

Not at all.

And that terrifying realisation was (finally) enough to snap Battler back into his proper sense of mind.

His head jerked back sharply as though he'd been hit- when, in actuality, Ronove's actions had been far gentler (not 'almost', but definitely, tender... _bleurgh...) _than that. Battler's eyes were so large they almost ate up half of his face, and his blush was so plainly visible it probably could have been seen from space.

"W-w-what..." Battler stuttered, his voice more broken than shattered glass.

He cleared his throat, tried again; and Ronove was smiling his weird not-quite-cruel-but-not-quite-completely-innocent smile that made Battler's thoughts collapse in on themselves even _more_, and- damn it- Ronove shouldn't have been _smiling_, not at all.

"W-what was _that_?"

"I would have thought it was fairly obvious- unless you want another demonstration?~"

Battler was caught off-guard by that. What little composure he'd managed to regain disintegrated into dust and ashes, blown away by the wind.

"N-no, I... I..." Battler floundered, his tongue artlessly tripping over every word, as though they were hurdles.

That was almost funny, considering his tongue had been _far_ more graceful when in Ronove's mouth instead of his own and-

Battler winced.

That wasn't funny.

That wasn't funny at all.

That was _horrifying._

"I was curious about something," Ronove continued, sounding so suave and smooth and completely unflustered Battler was beginning to feel incredibly jealous. How on earth was _that _fair?

Battler was struck with the sudden urge- a petty, childish, vindictive desire for revenge (and maybe for something else, too)- to make Ronove feel even one eighth of the embarrassment he felt; to make Ronove blush and stutter and sigh at every touch _he_ gave him- to melt against Battler as compliant, as desperate, as Battler had been with him...

But that was a very unsafe train of thought, leading to several very disturbing conclusions; almost like a dating sim with eldritch abominations, when a 'good ending' just didn't exist. (Not that Ronove was particularly bad looking, or on par with Lovecraftian monsters, but he was still Ronove, and no amount of magic would change that.)

Battler shook his head, face flushed, trying to rid himself of those strange thoughts and feelings before they began to eat away at his sanity.

Or what was left of it.

"W-what..."

Battler started. Stopped. Tried again. Tried to get rid of that stupid, stupid stutter- but, by then, it was far too late.

It was useless, all useless.

"W-what were you curious about?" Battler finally managed to choke out.

"Your strange reaction my light-hearted teasing, of course~"

"Strange?"

"You were blushing- as, I'm right in assuming, I already pointed out," said Ronove simply. Still smiling, he reached forwards (Battler flinched- that could herald nothing good) and brushed a few strands of Battler's hair- messier and more flyaway than ever- out of his eyes. "You still are... And, if my memory serves me well, you blushed the first time we met, correct?"

Oh yes. Battler remembered- even though he wished he didn't.

He looked away, eyes narrowed.

"_So._ You're saying _this _is the 'right atmosphere, with sweet words and body language'? Well..." Battler rolled his eyes, folding his arms- and, at the same time, he felt (just a little) more confident than before. Slightly more in control. If he looked at this another way, this was- basically- just another battle of minds against another opponent. Usually, Battler fought against Beato- but he could defeat Ronove too. It wouldn't be so difficult... If he could keep his cool.

Battler smirked.

"I guess, if I was grading you on your previous criteria- atmosphere, words and body language- you'd only get a one out of three."

"You remember what I said? I'm so flattered~ Pu ku ku~ Why, though, may I ask, did I get such a low score?"

"The 'body language' bit was there," said Battler, stabbing his finger at Ronove as he made a point. "But, everything else_? _No. You've got a lo~ot of work to do."

"Somebody sounds confident~"

"You know it!"

"Well then~"

There was a sudden flurry of movement, as Ronove wrapped his arms round Battler's waist, pulling their bodies together. Their foreheads bumped together gently, and Battler could feel Ronove's breath across his face once more as he exhaled.

Battler shuddered.

Too close- way too close.

"Haven't you ever heard of personal space?" Battler asked sharply.

"I am aware of the concept."

"You ever thought about, ooh, I dunno, _trying it out_?"

"I can and will control my depraved urges when the time arises," said Ronove silkily, resting his forehead against Battler's once more. "But, for now… Well. I simply cannot stand by and allow you judge my… ah… 'skills' so harshly. One out of three? I'm offended."

A very dangerous smirk had begun to tug at Ronove's lips.

Battler felt his breath catch in his mouth.

For all his bravado- trying to force an unflinching, apathetic face, whilst Ronove held him so closely Battler was almost sat in his lap- Battler couldn't keep the blush from his face.

If this was a battle- not so much of minds, but of composure and the ability to keep a clear head- then Ronove was clearly winning.

_That bastard._

_I bet he's got loads of practise sexually harassing people- he's been alive, like, what, a thousand years?_

_I-I've barely even done stuff like this with _girls_ before, let alone people like __that__ creep…_

_Even if he is good looking…_

_But that's beside the point!_

"What's up with you?" Battler asked. He struggled to sound in control- unmoved- even though his heart was racing. He could almost feel the blood pumping through his veins- staining his cheeks that horrible red. "Aren't you going… a little too far?"

"You seemed fairly eager to reciprocate in the beginning~"

"T-that was…"

"It was?"

Battler bit his lower lip. Then, he shook his head.

He couldn't tell Ronove about Asmodeus and the 'love potion'. He'd rather die. And he probably would, too, if Ronove's every slight shift in position continued to give his poor, abused heart irregular spasms.

"Nothing. It was nothing."

"Ah~" Ronove sighed again, his breath ruffling Battler's already disorganised hair. "You're so stubborn. If you would only tell me what, precisely, was wrong, I wouldn't have to use such unorthodox methods to force an answer out of you."

"Or you could, y'know, just _ask_."

"I could, but it would be a wasted effort."

"And why's that?"

"You wouldn't reply."

Battler couldn't help but smirk at this- even despite their alarming proximity, his flushed cheeks, and the maelstrom of mixed emotions wreaking havoc in his mind.

"…You're probably right. Ihihi~"

"Such a stubborn child~ But…" Ronove smiled. "That's probably why Milady likes you."

"I wish she didn't."

"Sometimes I wish she didn't, too."

"H-huh?"

"Then…" Ronove leant in closer, his voice dropping in volume; becoming quieter, more… sensual, almost... "I wouldn't feel so guilty about enjoying this so much~ Mmn~ It's such a dilemma."

"I-I bet it is…"

Ronove's lips pressed against Battler's again; but Battler wasn't caught by surprise this time.

He didn't freeze.

His eyes didn't go wide.

Instead, they fell shut. His fingers buried themselves in Ronove's hair- and, at the same time, kept his head in place. Battler pushed himself against Ronove, his mouth opening to accommodate the other's tongue, gasping-

And then Battler drew away for breath.

His eyes narrowed.

"Just don't fuck around with me anymore, okay?"

"Hmn?" Ronove tilted his head to one side, feigning innocence- which was rather tricky to pull off, considering he was out of breath and his usually immaculate hair was in disarray. "I thought that was the general idea~ Pu ku ku~"

_Crunch._

But it was Battler who had the last laugh.

Because Battler had just hit Ronove in the face.

"Don't think you can say things like that and get away with it!" said Battler angrily, folding his arms. "You shouldn't be teasing me like that. I don't care if you were doing it to get information for Beato about my 'weird behaviour' or whatever- it doesn't matter. I think you're enjoying it far too much."

_Says me, who was willingly reciprocating up until two seconds ago._

…_Fuck._

_I don't know._

_I don't know what to do._

"How could I resist?" Ronove asked, still smiling. "It's exceedingly difficult for me, I assure you."

"...Freak."

"And yet you still responded to my flirtations. How strange."

"I-I didn't respond! I was only taking pity on you."

"Denial is a wonderful thing, isn't it?"

Battler's left eye twitched.

Beato was right.

Ronove really did need to learn when to shut up.

* * *

**a/n: **These characters are my favourite characters to write in, like, /anything/  
I am being deadly srs XD

It's kind of weird how in all my other 'romance' stories, the real 'romance'y stuff only happens like 15 chapters in, but in my ronove/battler fics it happens really, really quickly o_o Why is that? XD It's just something about /this/ pairing~  
I blame Ronove XD kehkehkeh

Oh. And Battler won't be a blushing/stuttering/embarrassed uke for the duration of this fic (not at all QUITE THE OPPOSITE XD)  
so don't worry? :D

(I must be the only weirdo in the world who really likes this pairing that much –sweatdrop-)

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	6. Keep your thoughts somewhere safe

**An Unfortunate Outcome  
**Chapter Six

'Keep your thoughts somewhere safe'

* * *

"Hey, Beato! I'm ba~ck~ Did you miss me?" Battler called, as his sudden appearance before the witch was marked with another shower of golden butterflies.

His greeting had been slightly arrogant- and Battler was sure (in fact, judging by Beatrice's scowl, he was certain) it would irritate Beatrice.

But that was mainly why he did it.

Seeing that strange, wide-eyed expression of surprise flicker across Beatrice's face was worth the potential maiming his 'dramatic entrance' would give him- even if Beato's surprised, 'deredere' expression lasted all of two seconds.

When it had passed, she looked quite her usual self again; aloof and dangerous- if a little flustered.

"Me? Miss _you?"_ asked the Great Golden Witch Beatrice, quirking a brow at Battler's insolence. "I think you're flattering yourself, Ushiromiya Bahh~ttler!"

Then, she dipped her head, the top part of her face eaten by shadows cast by her straight-across bangs. With half her face shrouded in darkness and her lips pulled into a cruel smirk, Battler could almost believe this woman was a witch who ruled Rokkenjima's woods at night- had the idea not been against everything he stood for, and completely ridiculous.

"I'll grind you into the dust for being so presumptuous," Beatrice continued, her smirk widening, until her mouth looked impossibly large and twisted; almost as though it were a gaping groove that had been cut into her skin with a bread knife. "You're exactly the type of man I'd lo~ve~ to make glorify my name and kiss the ground I walk on! Kihihihi!~"

"Well, good for you."

Battler sat down in his usual seat before Beatrice, meeting her blue-eyed glare with a challenging one of his own. Then, he began to snigger.

"Ihihihi~ You'll never get a boyfriend if you treat all the handsome guys you know like this. You'll die an old, lonely spinster, drinking tea with your butler. Doesn't that sound sad? Ihihihi~"

"You better watch what you say, Bahh~ttler!"

Despite the warning tone in Beatrice's voice, Battler only grinned.

"Or... what...?"

"Or I'll ensure fathering children will suddenly become impossible for you."

Battler paused.

Then, his smirk contorted into a grimace, as though he'd just swallowed a sewing needle.

"..._Gahh."_

Even though Beatrice's threat was an empty one- or, at least, Battler hoped it was an empty one (then again, this was the woman who'd stripped him naked and fed him to a bunch of flesh-eating goats for a _laugh_ ((honestly- had telling jokes gone out of fashion or something? Did Beato really have to get her kicks from MURDER?)), so anything was possible)- Battler couldn't help but wince.

Unlike Jessica, who frequently threatened to castrate Battler when he made inappropriate comments (so, basically, that was about 80% of what passed Battler's lips), Battler could actually picture Beatrice keeping her word.

...Maybe her threat wasn't so empty, after all.

Battler didn't even want to think about that.

"Exactly," said Beatrice. "So be careful, Bahh~ttler- or I'll ensure any future girlfriend you might get (although THAT'S an impossibility in itself, fufufu) is going to be _sorely _disappointed with your skills in the bedroom."

"Isn't that a little extreme, Milady? Even for somebody as cruel as you?" asked Ronove, standing beside Beatrice as per usual- and still smiling, Battler couldn't help but note.

"Not when he deserves it," Beatrice said, glaring at Battler with such intensity it was a wonder she hadn't managed to bore a hole through his forehead. "He's been... staring at me... since the moment he got here."

Battler. mimed confusion, placing his fingers under his chin in mock-thought. Not even the looming threat of castration was going to stop him teasing Beatrice! It was a noble goal, and he'd stand by it!

"Gee... I wonder why _that_ is? It wouldn't have anything to do with your outfit- certainty not. Ihihi~"

Beatrice- in a direct contrast to her previous, haughty mannerisms- flushed.

"D-don't patronise me!"

"Well don't act like such a victim when you're sat there wearing virtually nothing! You people in the meta world- you all need to learn how to dress yourselves properly if you don't want guys to stare at you!" Battler retorted, spreading his arms wide in another over-the-top gesture as he made his point.

Battler wasn't sure why he liked gesticulating so very much; especially when once, during a particularly heated argument with Jessica about six or seven years ago, he'd made such an exaggerated arm movement he pulled a muscle and couldn't move his right arm for a week (of course, Jessica had found this hilarious).

"Geez, it's just like with the stakes," Battler continued. "They shout at me for ogling them, but what do they expect when they dress like they do? Huh..." Battler paused, the gears of his mind turning, generating questions. "...Why _do_ you dress the stakes up like that, Beato?"

Battler smirked.

"You don't have some weird fetish for maid girls _as well_ as BDSM, do you? Ihihi~ I knew you were twisted, but I didn't know you were _that_ twisted."

Beatrice's cheeks flooded with red- though she was obviously struggling to remain neutral.

Her struggle was in vain.

And, of course, that only made her angrier.

Huh.

A Beatrice suffering from acute cases of both anger and embarrassment seemed to be a very dangerous creature- if the murderous expression on her face was any indication.

"Of course not," said Beatrice, spitting the words out through gritted teeth. "It's simply their dress code."

"And who made this 'code', I wonder? And for what reason? Ihihihi..."

"You couldn't possibly understand- you're just a simple-minded fool," said Beatrice, her voice scathing. "A-and I'm not dressed like this because I want to..."

"Oh. So is this a new method you're trying out?" Battler asked. "You realised you can't defeat me by normal means, so you thought 'I know! I'll wear the skimpiest outfit imaginable, and then Battler'll be too distracted by my amazing cow tits to make any logical deductions and he'll have to concede that I'm a witch'? Is that what you thought?"

If the relationship between Beatrice's gradually darkening expression and reddening face had been plotted on a graph, their relationship would've made a perfect positive correlation.

"_B-battler..."_

"Ah, I'm sorry." Battler smiled maliciously, giving an exaggerated bow of his head. "I was trying to impersonate you- but I guess it wasn't too accurate. I guess I should've thrown a 'kikiki' or 'gyahaha' in there for good measure, right? I'm sorry I misrepresented you so grossly~ Really, _really _sorry."

Beatrice's left eye began to twitch.

It was a warning sign.

Battler himself wasn't sure too why he was trying to instigate a fight. Irritating Beatrice was a sure fire way to get yourself killed and revived, only to be killed again… and again… and again, in a long chain of gruesome deaths that lasted a century (or until Beatrice got bored and went to have some tea or something).

However, it was difficult to resist the temptation to irritate Beatrice- especially when she was dressed in some Frankenstein's monster a cocktail dress with random holes cut out of it and ribbons sewn on, and she was obviously (despite her haughty, princess-like façade) embarrassed about it. Beato was still Battler's enemy (even though he called her by that cute nickname so easily, Beatrice's true nature wasn't 'cute' at all) and Battler couldn't resist the urge to take a few pot shots at her self confidence when it was already low.

But that wasn't the only reason why Battler was suddenly feeling so vindictive; so unnecessarily cruel.

Poking fun at Beatrice meant Battler's thoughts were kept away from her butler.

It meant Battler didn't have to think about Ronove.

Because Battler didn't _want _to think about Ronove.

And the fact Battler was trying so desperately hard to ignore him (which was a difficult task, considering Ronove was stood right _there_, still with that strange smile on his face) meant that Ronove's actions had- for all of Battler's denial- unsettled him.

Battler gave a strange, twitching motion as though he'd been scalded, as memories- memories so sharp and clear they could have been happening all over again- began to seep, unbidden, into his mind.

Memories like Ronove's arms round his waist, pulling him close (too close, _way_ too close).

Memories of Ronove's teeth biting against his ear.

Memories of Ronove's lips pressing against his- and it hadn't even been forceful, not really; it had been soft, gentle, almost loving (and Battler was sure, if Ronove had been more forceful, it wouldn't have felt so horribly, vomit-inducingly- and yet, at the same time- heart-wrenchingly sincere).

And yet, Ronove was still smiling.

He was smiling as though nothing strange had happened at all.

_D-damn it..._

_Why is it that __I'm__ the only one who seems to be affected by this? Hell- that freaky butler's not even stood next to me, and it STILL feels like he's got me in his arms, my tongue in his mouth and aaaa I shouldn't have thought of that- I really shouldn't have thought of that or I'll start blushing as much as Beato is and her fucking butler will probably laugh at me okay Battler calm down (and whatever happened to your internal punctuation skills? Don't let Ronove steal your commas and full stops too!)_

_I should keep my thoughts cantered on Beato._

_Keep staring at Beato._

_Pretty, lovely, horrible, sadistic, revolting Beato in her weird dress._

_Yeah._

_Keep doing that, and maybe she'll stab you in the face._

_Good plan._

_I would give it a nine out of ten._

_Who knows- maybe I'll annoy Beatrice so thoroughly with my stalker staring she'll try and crack my head open, and then all these memories (Ronove looked so sincere. Why did he look SINCERE?) would be knocked out of me, and I could lead a normal teenage boy's life, thinking normal teenage boy kind of things like... I dunno... boobs... and trying to solve a serial murder._

_..._

…_My life isn't normal._

_Why am I trying to delude myself it is?_

Battler shuffled in his chair, restless, his previous composure shot to pieces as his mind began to wander.

His eyes darted away from Beatrice- who looked rather more vulnerable (and yet, at the same time, about five hundred times more dangerous) than usual, attired in a glare, a grimace, a blush, and not much else- to Ronove.

Ronove, with his relaxed smile.

Battler hated that smile.

He wanted to shatter it- to make Ronove press against _him_ helplessly, gasping at every touch, his face flushed red...

And then Battler had to bite the inside of his mouth to bring himself out of that particular trance.

What was he thinking?

_No, that's the problem._

_You're not thinking __at all__._

_Has your brain turned into __**mush?**_

Battler knew he should've been focusing on Beatrice. Her mouth was opening and closing, and she seemed to be saying something (probably something along the lines of "you should drop dead"), and ignoring Beatrice was a Very Bad Thing to Do, with Unimaginably Bad Consequences.

The consequences of ignoring Beatrice were almost (but not quite) as terrible as the consequences of Battler's errant thoughts going to various scenarios about doing… things…with her butler…

_Damnit._

_Damn damn damn._

_Get your head out of the gutter._

_I know it's difficult, you being a teenage boy and (in Jessica's words… and Beelzebub's words… and the words of virtually every single female you've EVER met) a pervert, but you've got to __try._

Battler shook his head.

It was that potion, or whatever it was, that Asmodeus had given him. Those thoughts would never have crossed his mind normally; it wasn't his fault!

_That's right, blame mystery method X for your problems like you always do. Gyahahaha!_

Battler hated the voice of his inner Beatrice sometimes.

Especially when it cackled at him.

And the worst thing was he couldn't shut off the voice in his head without bashing his skull against something blunt for an extended period of time.

...It was probably a bad thing having voices inside his head anyway.

"-so what were you doing? Huh?"

Battler was snapped out of his mental meanderings by the sound of Beatrice's (the real Beatrice's) voice.

"Huh...? What?" Battler asked blankly.

"I said," Beatrice intoned, adding so much emphasis to each word it was a wonder her sentence didn't fracture into pieces, "why were you acting so strangely with Asmodeus?"

_Oh, because she gave me a love potion because Beezlebub stole MY food (yeah, I don't get that 'logic' either- then again, I don't think your world even HAS any 'logic') and now I kind of have these weird desires to have sex with your butler but, you know, that's just another day in the meta world, don't worry!~_

_Yeah._

_Like I can tell Beato __**that**_.

So instead, Battler decided to feign innocence. At least, until he could think of a half-decent alibi as to why he'd tried to murder Asmodeus (Asmodeus was incredibly irritating; it shouldn't have been too difficult to think of a plausible reason for trying to erase her pigtail'd existance from the universe) and then why he'd flipped out and refused to open his eyes when Asmodeus left (that... was going to be a lot more difficult to explain...)

"Strangely?" Battler asked, tilting his head to one side.

"Yes, _strangely_."

Beatrice looked pretty irritated. In fact, there wasn't any 'pretty' about it; her eyes were narrowed, her lips were pursed, and she looked just about ready to claw half of Battler's face off.

_Fuck, she looks irritated._

_Alright. I need to try and think of a good excuse now- before she __really__ goes through with her previous threat to castrate me!_

_And it'll have to be a good excuse, too._

_...Should I tell the truth?_

_..._

_Hahaha Battler you comedian._

_Would you rather jump off a bridge first?_

_-Actually, if I was given a choice between facing the Wrath of Beatrice and walking off the side of a bridge to certain death, I'd take the second option every time._

"Bahh~ttler. You're stalling."

_Okay, okay._

_Got to think of an excuse._

_Got to make it good._

_Believable._

_Sound intelligent._

_Alright..._

_Let's go!_

"I-I wasn't acting strangely! Not at all!"

Battler couldn't help but cringe the moment the words escaped from his mouth.

_Oh. Alright then. So when you can't think of an excuse, you opt for blatant denial instead?_

_Smooth, Battler._

_Smooooth._

Ronove's grin, however, had widened- until, to Battler's flustered irritation (irritated fluster? Given Battler's state of mind, the word order hardly mattered), Beato's damn butler began to laugh.

Because, of course, the threat of Battler's imminent castration was the high point of hilarity.

"I'm afraid Battler is being rather stubborn, Milady," said Ronove, by way of explanation. "He refused to tell me what, exactly, was wrong with him- although I'm sure the culprits behind his unusual state are Beelzebub and Asmodeus."

"Tch." Beatrice rolled her eyes at this. "Well, I already knew that. If anything goes wrong around here, it's always _their _fault. Or Gaap's fault. Or sometimes even your fault-" she stabbed a finger at Ronove "-when you can't keep your mouth closed, or you forget how to be polite. But, most of the time, it's their fault." Beatrice scowled, folding her arms. "I guess you weren't persuasive enough, Ronove- otherwise Battler would've told you."

"I assure you, Milady, I was _incredibly _persuasive," said Ronove- and Battler couldn't help but hear an innuendo in those words.

He felt his face go red.

Ronove was right; if he'd tried to be any more... aheh... 'persuasive' (if you wanted to call it that), then Battler wouldn't have been able to sit down properly for a week.

"Alright. Whatever," Beatrice muttered childishly. She pouted- and, at that moment, she looked a lot younger than she really was. It was almost cute. Battler felt he should've patted her on the head or something- if he hadn't known Beatrice would try bite off his fingers. "I suppose I'll have to go and interrogate those useless stakes. What a pain."

"I thought you liked torturing others, Milady? You're exceptionally good at it. Pu ku ku~"

"I don't feel like it today," Beatrice said, absent-mindedly tugging at one of her blonde curls as she thought. "Besides, I don't want to break my _own_ furniture over something so trivial. I'd rather break little Bahh~ttler here."

"Ha! Bring it on, Beato!" Battler retorted, pointing dramatically at her. "I'm not scared of you!"

"I like it, I like it!~" Beatrice began to cackle- as though the childish, pouting Beatrice from a few moments ago had never existed; or she'd suddenly grown up into that scary woman. "Why don't we resume our game for a while, then? If you want- if you feel you can't ha~andle iitt- then I'll even go easy on you~ Of course, that'll come at a price! Gyahaha!"

"Like I'd need _your _help!" Battler retorted brazenly. "I'll see through your schemes and crush them like-"

"-_BEEZLEBUB_! I thought you said you were going to find my dress!"

"I don't see why you need it, considering you're so hideous! It's not like it'll make you look any nicer, big sis! But... maybe... if you wore a bag on your head-"

"S-shut up!"

Battler blinked in confusion, his epic declaration of war interrupted by... an argument between Beelzebub and Lucifer? Although the two stakes weren't physically in the room, Battler could hear their argument clearly, as it their voices rebounded through the hallways of the meta world.

Then, there was a loud crunch, and a wail of pain.

"L-luci! Y-you didn't have to hit me!"

"And you didn't have to be so disrespectful to your elders!"

"Aww~ You're just jealous 'cause I'm sooo much prettier and cuter and adorable than you, and no matter how much I eat I never gain wei~ight!~ Gyahaha- ow!"

"T-that has nothing to do with it! I already told not to be so rude! It's appalling!"

"You really are, Luci! Especially after you've eaten too much of Ronove's cooking."

"W-what did you say?"

"You'll get fat, and then no guy will want to go out with you- not even this person you're trying to impress with your stupid dress!"

Judging by the loud screams, bangs, clatters, crashes, and various other onomatopoeic sounds that were drifting to Battler's ears (the stakes' argument was about as musical and refined as a cacophony of screeching cats and clanging saucepans), it sounded an awful lot like Lucifer and Beelzebub were trying to murder each other.

_Good._

_Maybe they'll kill each other before they have a chance to make _my _life any more miserable._

Beatrice, however, looked less than amused.

In fact, she looked the very opposite of amused.

Her eyes rolling back in her head, as though she were a doll that had been tipped upside-down, Beatrice brought her hands up to her head in irritation. It looked like she was trying to keep her head fixed to her shoulders. Her eyes were narrowed- so narrow, in fact, the bright blue slits of her irises were almost swallowed by her multitude of spiky black lashes- and her teeth were bared in a snarl.

"I. _Cannot_. Deal. With. This."

Ronove blinked at Beatrice with some... was that sympathy?... on his face (not that it really mattered, of course; amusement was still the primary emotion there. Battler wasn't surprised; he already knew all the meta world inhabitants were complete sadists who divined pleasure from hurting others).

"...Milady? Would you care for some tea?"

In response to Ronove's question, Beatrice gave a short, sharp scream. It was the scream of a woman pushed to the edge; of a woman dressed in an outfit she didn't want to wear, unable to find the perpetrator of the crime so she could punish them, stuck with a boy who was keeping some kind of secret from her and she couldn't prise it from his head, surrounded by arguing maid-girls who could turn themselves into weapons, and then oh-so-casually being offered tea by her smiling butler as though nothing were amiss and it was just another ordinary day.

Battler didn't really blame Beatrice when she disappeared.

He didn't.

Because he wanted to escape, too.

* * *

The air was warm; deliciously so. Overhead, the sky was blue- so beautifully blue it almost stung the eyes to look at. The few clouds in the sky were white and fluffy, like wool from sheep or cotton candy. Around the arbour stood rose bushes, delicately snaking round the marble dais in a sea of thorns intermixed with splashes of bright red.

It was... quiet.

Peaceful.

The very soil in the ground- the earth that made up that small corner of reality, hidden away from the busy outside world by a complex maze of topiary animals and green hedges- seemed to sigh at the beauty of it all.

And, sat under the shade of the arbour at a table, were two figures.

One of them was Virgilia Publius Maro, former teacher to the Golden Witch Beatrice- and the Beatrice herself.

And other was the bespectacled Chief Inquisitor of Eiserne Jungfrau, known as Death Sentence Dlanor or Dlanor of the Ten Wedges to many a witch or demon- but known, quite simply, as Dlanor A. Knox to everybody else.

Both parties were drinking tea from china cups as they surveyed the sprawling green landscape and the breath-taking rose gardens laid out before them.

"It's so relaxing here~" Virgilia sighed, placing her teacup down on its saucer with a light _clink. _

"Indeed," Dlanor agreed, nodding her head. She moved slowly, robotically- almost like a doll. "However... are you sure it's alright for you to be here, Miss VIRGILIA? Won't your presence be missed by your former STUDENT? This is irresponsible BEHAVIOUR."

"Ahh... Why are you scolding me?" Virgilia asked- but she was still smiling. "You make me feel like a naughty child."

Dlanor returned the smile with another one of her strange, cat-like expressions. Despite Dlanor's status as 'Chief Inquisitor', her fearsome reputation, and the numerous horror stories surrounding her as her red blade felled witch after witch, Dlanor- with her heart-shaped face, large eyes, stilted manner of speech and small smiles- looked incredibly young.

Far too young to be so very feared by so many witches.

"I'm SORRY," Dlanor apologised, shaking her face. "I suppose it's my natural way of CONVERSING."

"It's alright, I know," Virgilia replied. "Maybe I am being a little irresponsible... But I'm sure that child- short-tempered and rash though she is- can manage by herself without my guidance for a few hours or so."

"You have a very high opinion of that CHILD."

"I'll trust her not to do anything stupid. A mother has to let go eventually, right?"

"...I wouldn't know anything about that, but you're a sensible WOMAN. I suppose I can agree with your JUDGEMENT."

"Thank you."

Virgilia took another sip of tea. She watched over the rim of her cup as Dlanor mirrored her motions- almost like a child copying a parent. Virgilia's sleepy smile grew even more sincere at that. If being with Beatrice was like being with a moody, argumentative child, then being with Dlanor A. Knox was like being with a good-natured, obedient one.

"To that end..." Virgilia continued, her cup still held delicately in her hands, with such poise and grace in her simple movements it was almost ethereal, "why aren't you at the Court of Heaven? Shouldn't you be supervising some new third class priests? Isn't that your job?"

"...It IS," said Dlanor slowly, her voice almost fragmented, as though she were picking random syllables from a database in her head and trying to string them together. She spoke, looked, and acted like an automaton on some occasions- but Virgilia knew her too well to find it strange. "However, it was really BORING."

"Heh~" Virgilia gave a small, amused sound. "And you lectured me about being irresponsible."

Dlanor's face remained blank as she said, quite seriously, "I don't like boring THINGS. I'm still a KID."

Virgilia laughed.

"You shouldn't shirk your duties like that, Death Sentence Dlanor. What would people think?"

"I don't believe spending a few hours away from the job will impact my STATUS. And, to borrow words from your own mouth, Miss Virgilia; I am sure everything will be FINE. They can manage without me in the Court of Heaven for a few HOURS."

"And if they can't...?"

Dlanor's weird smile returned. It was almost precisely like an upturned '3'.

"Then they are all INCOMPETANT."

Laughing again- her laughter so refined and lady-like it would've put the gentle clinking of wind chimes to shame- Virgilia adjusted her hat, trying to shield her face from the sun.

The sunlight reflected off the teacups, lighting up the blue, willow-patterned lines that ran along the creamy china, like veins.

The roses flourished.

The grass swayed gently in the breeze.

It really was... very peaceful.

And Virgilia couldn't imagine how anything could go wrong.

* * *

**a/n:** Then you're not thinking hard enough, Virgilia :3  
Aaaa I love Dlanor. I love her lots XD (Then again, /everybody/ loves Dlanor XD)  
And she's not just here for teh lulz- she later becomes vaguely important to the 'plot' (or whatever 'plot' this thing has- which isn't actually that much, but shhh.)

Darrn, thanks to 'My Immortal' I somehow managed to convince myself 'suicidally' is a word XD Aparently, it isn't XDD

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	7. Don't make it so meaningful

**An Unfortunate Outcome  
**Chapter Seven

'Don't make it so meaningful'

* * *

_Thwack._

That was the sound of Battler's head smashing against the back of his chair.

"...Ow."

And that was the slightly delayed moan of pain Battler made upon impact.

"Are you alright?" Ronove asked. His voice seemed polite enough on the surface; however, Battler could hear those teasing undercurrents plainly- and he knew he was meant to. Ronove's smile didn't help matters, either (could he do anything _other _than smile? Would his face disintegrate when he wasn't wearing that grin or something?)

It was a simple question.

'Are you alright?'

It only required a yes or no answer.

And yet it made Battler wince.

Because, the more Battler pondered it, the more he realised just how not-alright everything in his life was. Battler's life was even more not-alright than usual- and that was quite a feat, taking Beatrice's weird mind games, the series of strange and unusual deaths he had to explain away with human methods, and the distinct lack of coffee but the over-abundance of tea in the meta world into account.

_All those things are pretty awful, but I can deal with it. I'm meant to be, like, the hero defeating the evil witch or something- and in all those fairy stories Maria used to like so much (at least, until she started rooting for the evil sorceresses over the main characters) the hero never runs of into the corner and cries because he can't have a cup of coffee!_

_I have to stay strong!_

_And seriously, the ambience of the meta world would totally suck without me here to light it up. I'm such an amazingly awesome guy it'd be a CRIME if I stopped being this great!_

_I know, from the bottom of my heart, that it's my _duty _to remain unmoved and unchanging in the face of disaster!_

_But..._

Battler stared at Ronove. His vision was obscured by strands of his unruly red hair that just wouldn't lie flat. Instead, it stuck up at every possible angle, as though trying to escape from his scalp- and Battler remembered his mother laughing (not Kyrie- Kyrie didn't laugh very much, and besides, when she became a member of his family Battler was far too old to need a mother figure to do his hair for him anymore) as she tried to comb it down.

It never worked, but she always tried anyway- and, in the end, they'd both giggle at the helplessness of it all.

Battler's hair just seemed to defy gravity.

And yet, despite his messy bangs, Battler could still see Ronove clearly.

Far too clearly.

He wished he couldn't- because just the sight of that damn butler was making his insides feel incredibly strange and fluttery.

And 'fluttery' wasn't the kind of manly word Battler would've liked to associate with himself.

Battler tried to push those feelings aside- they were nothing, it meant nothing, and Asmobub would be laughing their stupid heads off if they knew how much their 'revenge' was affecting him- but...

Battler couldn't...

Even when he turned his head away from Ronove, hiding behind his hair until his vision was swallowed up completely by a mass of red, Battler still had his memories.

He could still remember Ronove's lips on his own...

Even if Ronove didn't seem to care.

Well, of course he didn't; he'd only been 'doing his job'- trying to get some information. Battler had been too stubborn, too prideful (and he still was, despite his headache), to simply say 'oh yeah, Asmobub gave me a love potion and now I'm kind of attracted to you against my better judgement, kay?'- so Ronove had to resort to more... 'direct' methods to get a result.

At least Battler- despite his embarrassingly eager response- hadn't caved in Ronove's demands (not his verbal ones, anyway. His physical demands, on the other hand...

It didn't bear thinking about).

Battler still hadn't told Ronove what was wrong with him.

And what they had done (more like, what_ Ronove_ had done- or, at least, initiated) didn't change anything.

It had meant nothing.

_It didn't mean anything._

_Why?_

_Why are you acting so disappointed?_

_Do you __want__ it to mean something?_

_Geez- you sound like a lovesick girl whose crush didn't accept your homemade chocolate._

_Why are you being so stupid?_

Well, at least the answer to _that _question was reasonably obvious.

_It's because you're an idiot._

_You're not thinking straight._

_Hahahaha._

_Yeah. I'll say._

_...This would be a lot funnier if this was happening to somebody else._

Battler wasn't sure how, exactly, he could translate all of that into words- but that was precisely why he wasn't alright. He could have said 'no'- but 'no' was such a short, monosyllabic word, it didn't seem appropriate to fully explain his woes.

So, after pondering how to fully surmise his feelings in a simple word, Battler settled on;

"Urghhhh."

It wasn't really an answer. But it seemed to get his message across fairly well.

"Ah~ I see," said Ronove. "It may be presumptuous of me, but would it be safe to assume, from that noise you made, that you are not alright at all?"

"It would be safe to assume that," said Battler tiredly.

"I thought so."

"You don't need to talk like that, though."

Ronove tilted his head to one side. "Like what?"

"Like..." Battler frowned, tracing shapes in the air with his arms uselessly. "...You know."

"I'm afraid I don't; I may be a demon, but I can't read minds. Especially not a mind like your's."

"Is telepathy not part of your move set, then?"

"I'm afraid not," Ronove answered, smiling. "I'm terribly sorry to disappoint you."

"Huh." Battler let his arms drop to his sides. "I guess all this time I've been labouring under a misapprehension."

"…Ooh. Those were some rather complicated words for a person like you~"

"Hey, shut up!" Battler retorted. He couldn't resist the urge to stick his tongue out- just to punctuate the point. "I'm not stupid, right?"

"I never said that. I believe you are protesting just a tad too much?"

"Whatever," Battler grumbled, folding his arms. "I don't care. I don't care what you think! I am past caring. Ihihihi."

"If you say so."

"Don't sound so doubtful- it's pissing me off. Not that I need a guy like _you _to back me up."

"Well, quite."

"Sooo. You can't use telepathy?"

"I'm afraid not."

"What _can _demons do then?"

"I believe I've already given you a sufficient demonstration of my... shall we say, talents~" said Ronove, his voice so thick with innuendo it was almost tangible- and Battler, to his disgust, felt himself flushing at that. Ronove hadn't even _done _anything, and already Battler's heartbeat had sped up, skipping in his chest.

Even so, Battler tried to remain cool.

Tried to force those thoughts away.

But Battler had never been that good at keeping his emotions under control. Whatever he felt always showed up on his face. In the same manner, whatever he thought usually came blurting out of his mouth- much to Jessica's irritation, who didn't take Battler's easygoing comments about how big her boobs were as compliments.

According to her, it was 'sexual harassment'.

Now Battler knew how Jessica felt.

"S-sexual harassment isn't a talent!" Battler shot back. "Even _I _can do that, and I'm not even a demon!"

"Ah~ You misunderstand me, Battler. I would never harass you- at least, not without good reason. I am a gentleman, I assure you," said Ronove- but his quirked brows and strange smirk said otherwise. He might as well have been a character in an awful detective novel denying the fact they committed a murder whilst holding the severed head of their victim; his excuse was just _that_ flimsy and unbelievable.

And Battler didn't trust that damned butler at all.

"Ihihi. Yeahh. A 'gentleman'. You must have a different definition of that word that I do, then- 'cause George is a 'gentleman', and he'd never act like you," said Battler. His rolled his eyes. "I am sooo sure~"

"I am sure I must be mistaken in my thoughts, but I seem to be detecting a great level of sarcasm in your words, Ushiromiya Battler. Why ever could that be, I wonder? Pu ku ku~"

"You see!" Battler exclaimed, stabbing a finger in Ronove's direction.

"...What, precisely, do you want me to see? Some clarification would be helpful- as I stated before, I can't read minds~"

"This is EXACTLY what I was trying to say before- but then you distracted me! You only just reminded me! The way you talk is..." Battler paused, his brows furrowing as he searched for the proper word. In the end, he decided to settle on the one adjective out of all adjectives ever invited in any language EVER that could perfectly describe Beato's butler.

"_Weird._"

"Weird?" Ronove reiterated. "How exactly is my speech- to use your own words- 'weird'? I find that rather hurtful. Pu ku ku~"

"So hurtful you just have to smile about it, huh?"

"Naturally. I believe I can recover from my heartbreak, if given time~"

"Whatever." Battler shrugged. "You just, I dunno... Talk too much. D'you have to make everything sound so needlessly complicated?"

"Communicating verbally is a needlessly complicated practise to begin with~" said Ronove- and (Battler wasn't sure how it happened) all of a sudden Ronove was stood next to him, looking down at Battler with amusement in his eyes. "Oftentimes I find, if I don't take great care to carefully phrase what I say, my words can be ambiguous and easily misinterpreted."

Battler made a face as though he'd just swallowed a lemon.

"Beato's right. You do talk wa~ay too much."

Ronove bowed his head- however, the action was far from humble. Instead, he seemed to be mocking Battler; though it was very indiscreet (or maybe Battler was just being paranoid).

"I apologise."

That apology, however, was definitely insincere.

"It's funny because that's a lie and you know it."

It wasn't really that funny, though.

More like disturbing.

"Hmn~ Maybe," said Ronove- and then Battler's eyes widened slightly in shock as he felt Ronove's fingers press gently against his cheek, tipping his head upwards, just like last time- inspiring the same feelings in Battler _just like last time- _and Ronove was leaning in closer. Battler tried to back away, but he couldn't, it was impossible- it was useless, all useless.

He couldn't move.

He... didn't want to move...

_Shit._

_From hereon out, I am going to blame any strange reactions I have to Beato's butler on those fucking stakes._

_They'll pay for this._

_With their own blood._

_I don't care if I'm meant to be the 'good guy' here- I'd GLADLY turn them into purgatory smoothies quicker than you could blink._

_In fact, murdering those damn stakes would be a GOOD thing to do; ridding the world of them would be like eradicating smallpox (or is smallpox already eradicated?)_

_I'd be doing a service to all mankind!_

_Okay, I'm getting off subject here._

_Mainly because it's safer thinking about nonsense than..._

_Than..._

"However..." Ronove's voice dropped in volume (it wasn't like he needed to be loud, considering how close he was to Battler). "I suppose I do agree with you. Sometimes, even I feel I talk too much, when I could be using my time far more productively... After all, you need not communicate with words. I'm sure you can imagine what I'm referring to."

"I-is there any reason you're acting like this?" Battler asked, his words sticking in his throat. "I-I... don't... get it..."

"Reason? Why should I need a reason?"

"B-because I'm not just going to let you do whatever you like!" Battler retorted, his face flushing.

He had to stop this.

He had to…

His body moving with no input from his brain (his brain was in a dazed, confused state; Battler wasn't much in the mood for listening to it, anyway), Battler held his hands between himself and Ronove.

Pushing him away.

Even if he didn't really want to.

If he didn't, Battler knew his resolve would crumble again, and he'd begin to invite- and respond to- Ronove's advances.

But Ronove didn't seem perturbed by Battler's resistance.

Instead, he seemed... somewhat amused?

Why was he amused?

Was this just a game to him? He was bored, so he decided to screw around with Battler's feelings (and Battler himself, in a more physical sense)?

Well, Battler wouldn't stand for that!

"What's so funny?" Battler asked, glaring up at Ronove- feeling horribly small and defenceless being sat down, whilst Ronove was stood over him. Battler had half a mind to stand as well- but in doing that he would be admitting that Ronove had gotten under his skin, and he didn't want to give that damned butler the satisfaction.

The incredibly obvious blush on his face was evidence enough of Battler's discomfort, so it was a bit of a wasted effort, but still.

At least Battler **did** try.

He didn't want Ronove to think he'd won.

But, contrary to Battler's expectations, Ronove didn't laugh or continue his ministrations, or even attempt to tease him further.

Instead, he sighed.

Was he... trying to get Battler to lower his guard?

"I'm not amused," Ronove clarified. "To be more precise, I'm relieved."

"...Relieved?"

"When you began to respond to my flirtations- even initiating a kiss yourself, if I do remember correctly (and it's rather hard to forget something like that)- I became... hmn... Not 'concerned', not _quite_... Instead, I was... surprised."

"Would you mind phrasing that again, in a language I can understand? With preferably less pauses. Kay, thanks," said Battler, voice monotone- a contrast to his still-flushed face.

"You weren't acting like yourself. I expected you to push me away. You didn't. It caught me off guard."

"Oh wow," said Battler, his voice filled with a mock amazement that sounded incredibly condescending- as though he were talking to a five year old, or his little sister. "So you _can _talk in simple sentences like an ordinary person. I'm impressed."

"Pu ku ku~ Your supercilious nature is so charming."

"Oh, shut up."

Ronove didn't.

In fact, he continued talking, cheerfully ignoring Battler's previous words.

"In any cases, it seems you've come to your senses. Even though I'm deeply hurt at being rejected by somebody as good-looking as you-" Here, Battler's face went through several shades of red, and Ronove laughed. "-it's reassuring to know you're back to your usual self. I doubt I'd like you half as much as I do if you gave into my desires so easily~ Challenges are a lot more fun; as Milady is so fond of saying."

But Battler didn't focus on the latter half of Ronove's speech.

Instead, his mind was still stuck on one particular phrase from Ronove's mouth.

And it wasn't even the part about how 'good-looking' he was (because Battler knew that already).

Ronove had said he was 'back to his usual self'.

As though everything had been solved.

Had it…?

Ronove might have thought that, but Battler had no idea how long that 'love potion' of Asmobub's was going to remain in his system. If Battler hadn't pushed Ronvoe away when he did, he knew he would've quickly lost any and all resolve to keep Ronove at arm's length (or, as were Battler's usual feelings towards Beato's creepy butler, as far away from him as possible; and arm's length just wasn't far enough).

Battler would have... let Ronove do whatever he wanted...

_Again._

And, as memories- bright and vivid, made of more substance than Battler's usual daydreams because they'd _actually happened_- began to fill Battler's mind, he felt himself shudder.

Battler would have been more than willing to return Ronove's 'affections'.

With just as much (if not, more) vigour than before.

And Ronove said he was 'back to his usual self'?

Ha.

What a joke.

Ronove didn't know the half of it.

Mainly because Battler would rather die than tell him.

But it hadn't been resolved.

Not at all.

Battler knew this for a fact because when he looked up at Ronove, messy bangs still impeding his vision, he found he really wasn't that adverse to the idea of… kissing him again…

"Battler?"

Battler was startled out of his thoughts by Ronove's voice- more gentle than usual, and far, far softer.

He shouldn't have been talking like that.

He really shouldn't.

Not when Battler's mind was already jumbled and confused- even more so than when he tried to reason out who the killer was on Rokkenjima- and he didn't quite know what to do or what to think.

But Battler did know Ronove's voice was stirring a strange desire in him.

A desire to grab hold of Ronove's collar- roughly, forcefully, without any social niceties or those 'good manners' Aunt Natsuhi was so strung up about (not that Battler assumed, even for a second, Natushi'd be any more lenient towards Battler if he kissed Ronove gently. She'd probably have a heart attack at the mere notion of a real, blood relative of the Ushiromiya family having such 'scandalous' thoughts- of shaming the family name in such a way)- and smash their lips together, with tongues and teeth and…

And…

Battler wanted it.

He… did…

Battler felt himself beginning to get hot- he absent-mindedly began to fan his face with his hand.

He knew what he wanted- even if he tried to pretend he didn't.

He wanted to be in control.

Even for a few minutes- hours- or however long it'd take to make Ronove sigh in pleasure and call out his name; however long it'd take to make Ronove admit Battler had _defeated _him.

Was that really such a selfish desire?

It wasn't, was it?

Everybody thirsted for a little control every now again- it was just human nature.

That was one of the reasons why Battler had abandoned the Ushiromiya family name six years ago, amongst many. It was because he'd wanted to make his own decisions, and he'd wanted to be free- and it had been selfish, yes, but the children of the Ushiromiya family had such large expectations forced upon them by their parents from birth (especially George and Jessica; at least Rudolf was a bit more laid-back about those sorts of things) it wasn't fair.

Their parents had been selfish, too.

The cousins were still children- they still had the right to act childish- and, ultimately, they could act selfish, too.

So Battler had left.

And, during that short period when Battler had been estranged from that old bastard, his new wife and the rest of the Ushiromiya family, his life had been… calmer.

More carefree.

But Battler had matured, he became more responsible, and he couldn't stay mad at that old bastard forever because he_ liked_ Kyrie, and he genuinely loved Ange, and he'd eventually come back, as he'd always known he would deep, deep down.

But Battler had been in control of his own life once.

And now he'd lost whatever 'control' he still held almost entirely.

When Beatrice appeared, destroying his perception of 'reality' and forcing him into her twisted game with witches and demons and magic (Battler really _hated_ magic), she had effectively chained him to her game board.

To Rokkenjima.

To that family he'd turned his back on six years ago, with no intentions of returning to.

And now he had no choice but to stay there until he defeated Beatrice.

Battler… really didn't have a say in his own life anymore.

From the moment he met Beatrice Battler's life had been sabotaged by short-tempered witches, bare-legged demon girls, flesh eating goats and Beato's butler, who'd never heard of coffee or personal space. And that was fine- that was okay- and Battler could deal with that, because he was the 'hero' and he was going to rescue his family, and he'd put up with all this supernatural nonsense and take it as it came.

But it really wasn't fair- and Battler knew he sounded childish, petulant, but he was still a teenager, and he still had a right to be a child. Even though he'd been playing the responsible big brother role to Ange for a while now, and his various family members expected him to act 'dignified' as an 'Ushiromiya', Battler wasn't an adult yet.

Once upon a time, it had been Battler's family that pushed him round- though he didn't have half as bad a time as Jessica or George, not really.

And now it was Beatrice who held control over Battler- always being so rude, so haughty, so proud, so flippant and uncaring and generally unlikable.

And if it wasn't Beatrice doing the pushing it was one of the seven stakes (the usual culprits being Asmodeus and Beelzebub, and occasionally Satan when she lost her temper and Battler was ((unwisely)) hanging around. When that happened, all of a sudden all the wrongs in the world, from Satan's split-ends to the bubonic plague, became Battler's fault, and Satan would try to dismember him).

And if it wasn't one of the stakes being irritating and controlling and commanding was Ronove, who'd invade Battler's personal space and making him blush- just as he'd done the first time they met.

To Beatrice, Battler was an opponent- somebody to grind into the dust.

Somebody to make glorify her name.

Somebody to torment and tease and feed to flesh-eating goats just because she got _bored._

But who did Battler get to push around?

Who did Battler get to control?

The answer was simple.

Nobody.

In the meta world he was at the bottom of the hierarchy, and Beatrice was at the top, and Battler had no control over anything anymore- not even his own life, which had been sabotaged completely by Beatrice and her entourage of magical freaks.

Battler... wanted to have some power over somebody else, too.

If only to make himself feel a little better.

As Battler continued to look at Ronove, his heart beating a little too fast to be normal and his cheeks red as his hair, he couldn't halt the flow of thoughts running throughout his head.

Maybe, if Asmobub had never given him that stupid potion, and Ronove hadn't been so tender with his kisses, he wouldn't have been thinking about this.

In fact, Battler knew for certain if neither of things had happened he wouldn't have been thinking so seriously about… 'this' (whatever 'this' was.

It wasn't something Battler wanted to explore too deeply).

If the Battler from one day ago had seen the thoughts rushing through the head of the Battler from right there and right now, he would have taken himself by the shoulders and shouted at him- tried to knock some sense back into his own thick skull, because he obviously had no sense left.

But that didn't change the fact Battler _was _thinking about Ronove, and Ronove's lips, and his tongue, and trailing kisses along his mouth and pressing against his body and making that damn butler cry out his name…

A lot.

Too much.

Battler shuddered.

It was strange- but maybe, on closer examination, it wasn't that odd, not really.

Battler was a hormonal teenager who'd always been pretty popular with the girls and yet he'd never really taken advantage of that- he'd never gone further than kissing. And now he was stuck in some strange universe _filled _with attractive women with body proportions taken straight from shounen mangas- and what guy wouldn't react strongly to that? Battler knew he had a snowball's chance in hell of getting with any of them- and he didn't much want to, either, considering the stakes were all a eggs short of an omelette (discounting Belphegor, who seemed to be a rather sensible girl in most respects), and Beatrice was quite happily insane, with a god complex and anger issues.

And yet Ronove was always standing just a little too close to Battler, making off-hand flirtatious comments that weren't meant to be taken seriously- Battler knew they weren't meant to be taken seriously…

But lately, he couldn't help himself.

He was helpless to his own thoughts.

And he wanted Ronove to feel as helpless as he did.

Battler... wanted somebody he could control, too.

Just for a while.

"N-nothing's wrong," Battler snapped at Ronove, trying to sound angry- but his voice stuttered, and his heart was still beating too quickly. "Why are you even here? Shouldn't you be... comforting Beato, or something?"

The idea of Ronove trying to 'comfort' anyone was almost laughable- but Ronove was Beatrice's butler. Wasn't it his job to console her? To calm her down?

And...

Battler couldn't be with Ronove anymore.

He couldn't.

He didn't think his heart could handle it.

"Me? Comfort Milady?" Ronove winced, as though Battler had suggested he stick his hand in a toaster. "I may be her servant, and it may be my job to attend to her needs- but I must think of my own well-being too, and I'm not suicidal."

"Meaning...?"

"If I tried to 'comfort' her she'd assume I was looking down on her, or being impertinent, or any number of things which would not be too far from the truth, and then she would- and I speak from experience here- begin to shout at me in a most unladylike manner, and then she'd try- and most likely succeed in- breaking my nose."

"Ahaha… Yeaahhh… I see what you mean," said Battler, nodding.

"I entrust you not to tell Milady I said this, but she can be a rather troublesome child," said Ronove, returning Battler's smirk with a good-natured smile of his own. "You should ask Miss Virgilia for the specifics- being Milady's teacher, she knows a great many tales of her fearsome temper."

"No, it's okay," said Battler. "I'll take your word for it."

"I thought you found me 'untrustworthy'?"

"Well, yeah. I'm sure I didn't use that _exact_ phrase- it was probably something more along the lines of 'you're a fucking liar, go die in a fire'- but I really don't think you're trustworthy. At all."

"It comes with being a demon~ Pu ku ku~"

"I know. I wouldn't trust you as far as I could throw you- about most things," said Battler. "But I've seen Beato, and I know she's a nutcase, so you're probably right. About the trying to break your nose thing. And the death threats. I can relate to it."

"You think so? Pu ku ku~ She's far nicer to you than she is to her poor, long-suffering furniture. You're fairly lucky, Ushiromiya Battler," said Ronove, with a mock sigh of despair- but his smile didn't waver, and Battler soon found himself smiling too.

And, during their unusually friendly exchange, Battler had noticed something...

Something that made his eyes widen, just a little, and his heartbeat speed up just a tad…

A warm feeling began to spread through his body.

"You... called me Battler."

"Indeed. I won't deny it," said Ronove, quirking a brow. "That is your name, correct?"

"Well, yeah, but..." Battler frowned. He looked at his lap, his fingers knotting themselves together, over and over again as he thought.

It was a stupid thing.

He wasn't sure why he was being so disgustingly sentimental about it.

But, even so, it was... important...

"You called me by my name. You said it properly. Usually, Beato's all 'Bahh~ttler!', and the stakes do that, too, and... I dunno... Ihihi..." Battler gave a small laugh, shaking his head. "Useless. Man… I'm really, really useless."

More like stupid.

He was being so _stupid._

"...I-it was just a nice surprise. That's all," Battler finished, looking up at Ronove, a little embarrassed by his musings. "I'd almost forgotten what my full name actually sounds like when it's not being mauled by witches and demons with no sense of when syllables end."

And it had reminded him, just a little, of being back with his family.

With his cousins.

Back when they'd all played together, before Battler left the Ushiromiya family- before Beatrice came into his life- before his mother died- before Battler turned on Rudolf- and he, George, Jessica and… Shannon? Had it been Shannon?... had all be so close and carefree and happy.

They'd all called him "Battler" too, without a trace of cynicism or misplaced amusement- apart from Jessica, who'd mocked Battler's stupid name a couple of times when he started spouting some highly misogynist views like 'girls shouldn't play with toy dinosaurs' or 'girls can't run as fast as boys!' that he'd doubtlessly picked up from that old bastard.

And when Ronove had called him by his name, it had… reminded him of those happier times.

But it was stupid getting so sentimental about something so small, so trivial- especially when it was spoken casually, uncaringly, by _Ronove._

It didn't mean anything.

Not at all.

_Why are you trying to make it mean something?_

_Why'd you have to make everything so __complicated__?_

_Damnit._

_Damn damn damn-_

"Battler…?"

Battler felt fingertips brush against his skin- pushing his hair out of his eyes- and when Battler blinked up at Ronove dubiously, with trepidation, found Beatrice's butler was, once again, far, far too close.

"A-ah... R-ronove...?"

"You're still acting strangely," Ronove said lightly, his fingers threading through Battler's hair. His eyes narrowed slightly in concentration. "Worrying about Milady may be suicidal, but I do know that she cares about you... And, to that end, I suppose I can care about you too, too- if not for her sake, then... for yours? I'm concerned… Of course, you don't have to believe me- me being such a notorious liar, as you already know. Pu ku ku~"

And Battler wanted to doubt him.

He really did.

But, somehow- and maybe it was the sudden nostalgia that had overtaken Battler as he thought of his family, of his cousins, of his mother- even of Ange- and how they would call him 'Battler' (such a stupid name) so easily, but nobody in the meta world ever did- Ronove's words sounded incredibly sincere.

"Hmn~ What's wrong, I wonder?" Ronove asked, tilting his head to one side. "Very little happens in the meta world- so, as you can assume, when something of interest occurs, no matter how small, I can become quite curious... Pu ku ku… Would you care to tell me? A trouble shared is a trouble halved?"

"B-but the trouble... involves you, too."

Battler spoke without meaning to- without his brain giving any authorisation for his mouth to do so- and he cringed, tried to catch his confession before it could do any harm; but it was too late.

Ronove had already heard him.

"That's interesting... And how does it involve me, exactly?"

Battler didn't know what to say.

How could he put that down in words?

But Battler noticed, despite Ronove's mask of calm, there was something surprised about his expression- genuinely surprised- although he was trying to suppress it with his usual smile.

Battler's previous thoughts came back full-force, cutting through those waves of nostalgia like a knife, and Battler remembered his anger and humiliation that Ronove could illicit such a needy, helpless response from him with a single touch, with a few kisses...

And that just wasn't fair.

Why would Ronove hold such power over him?

Battler wanted to make Ronove gasp _his_ name instead.

Battler wanted to be in control.

And he might just have found a way...

Battler smirked.

Then, he caught hold of Ronove's arm- snaring him in place, as Ronove's gentle caresses had so completely paralysed him just an hour or so earlier.

"Well, you know..." Battler said, his voice dropping in volume- becoming softer, more sensuous. "It's like you said. There are some things you can't really communicate in words, right?"

Battler was rewarded with an expression of wide-eyed shock from Ronove; a look he rarely saw, if at all, on the other's face.

"B-battler...?"

But it was the stutter in Ronove's voice- slight, barely there, but still _there_- that really made Battler's heart constrict.

"Shut up. For once- shut up, and pay attention to what I'm trying to tell you."

And then Battler grabbed hold of Ronove's shirt collar.

He pulled him down to his own height- practically drawing him into his lap.

And then he pressed his lips against Ronove's in a bruising kiss.

* * *

**a/n: **S-so much emotion o:  
Writing real emotions between this pair other than 'you're a creep', 'I know, pu ku ku' is incredibly /strange/  
How is my characterisation?  
Is my characterisation… okay? ;A;  
I spent a while on it, and I still think it's a little 'iffy', but I hope it's passable? I like pairing these charas together because they're fun and interesting to write and I love their canon personalities, so I don't want to screw that up just in favour of 'teh yaoi lololol' ._.

My writing style feels a little clunky here, too, even though I amended it heaps and heaps when I read thru it :

ahmygod you guyz.  
I might actually try writing an actual lemon next chapter –blushblush-  
I've never even done that before with /any/ pairing- least of all a strange one like this XD- but I'll probably just freak out and not do it in the end, but if I did...  
IT IS A POSSIBILITY.  
W-what do you think?  
:D

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	8. Words with more than one syllable

**An Unfortunate Outcome  
**Chapter Eight

'Words with more than one syllable'

* * *

Ronove… didn't respond to Battler's kiss.

Then again, he seemed so surprised- his eyes open, mouth parted yet unmoving- that Battler doubted he could have returned his affections, even if he'd wanted to.

And Battler wasn't so sure that he did.

But Battler was struck with an intense feeling of satisfaction. He'd actually managed to shut Beato's butler up. That was quite an accomplishment. Battler doubted if anybody had managed to render Ronove speechless, shocked and completely stationary before- at least, not all at the same time. Truly it was a feat to be proud of.

Maybe Battler would boast about it to Beatrice.

…Then again, maybe not.

Beatrice probably wouldn't approve of Battler's unorthodox methods (even if Beato's own ways of controlling people- **such as feeding them to goats** ((Battler couldn't stress that enough; it had been a horrifying experience, and it was lucky he was so resilient and amazing and he'd already seen a metric crap ton of freaky shit courtesy of Beatrice before his internal organs were gouged out by a sea of goat-human hybrids, or he probably would've been severely traumatised by that))- were even worse).

Although Beato routinely complained about her butler being too impertinent or carless with his comments, she probably wouldn't resort to such extreme methods to get a little peace and quiet- and that was fine, because Beatrice kissing Ronove seemed about as likely as Beatrice kissing Virgilia; although, Battler had to admit, that did sound pretty hot…

Maybe, if there was more witch on witch action in the meta world Battler wouldn't have gotten so sexually frustrated- and then he wouldn't have assaulted Ronove, and then everything would've been nice and fine and non-head-hurting-or-innocence-scarring.

Except there'd be a lot more lesbian witches.

But now Battler had Ronove, he wasn't going to share him. Especially not with Beatrice.

Battler was feeling particularly selfish, and he wanted Ronove all for himself.

When Battler broke the kiss, his eyes half-lidded, the flush from his cheeks all but gone in his sudden, selfish desire to be the one in control, he noticed that it was Ronove who was breathing heavily, and it was Ronove who looked completely disoriented, and it was Ronove- for a change- whose eyes were just a little too wide to be completely normal and whose cheeks were flushed, ever so slightly.

His blush wasn't really that noticeable- not like Battler's had been, taking into account Battler's inability to police his own emotions and his red hair that perfectly complimented his red face- but it was still _there._

Ronove was _actually_ blushing.

Undeniably so.

And that made Battler smirk.

"What's wrong?~" Battler asked, voice teasing. "Aren't you going to say anything? Usually, you never shut up."

"Aha... Ha..." Ronove returned Battler's rather malicious taunting with a laugh- but it was uneasy, not at all calm or composed. "In all honesty, I... wasn't expecting that."

"Well, now that you know what I'm doing... Maybe you'll be more prepared for the next time, hmn?"

"A-ah-"

Battler's grin grew wider, until the expression on his face was almost identical to the ones he used to wear around Jessica when he teased her about being a 'weak, useless girlll~ Ihihi~'

'Used to' being the operative phrase.

Because Battler soon realised Jessica didn't stand for being pushed around (especially, in her own words, 'by weak, useless, brain-dead boys!'), and Battler's attempts to disarm her would always result in Jessica kicking him in rather sensitive parts of his anatomy.

That had been, what, nine or ten years ago?

And Battler hadn't insulted Jessica since (at least, not to such a great extent).

But that poisonous grin he'd taken to wearing around her hadn't disappeared- and Battler was using it now (and he'd used it before on Beato at the end of the second game, when she invited Rosa to that 'delectable' feast) on Ronove, with devastating effects.

Battler wrapped his arms round Ronove's waist, pulling their bodies together with little resistance- if at all. Ronove ended up sat on Battler's lap, legs tangled with Battler's, their faces pressed together to closely their breath mingled.

Battler swore he could hear the sound of Ronove's heart beating- or maybe it was his own, he could hardly tell them apart anymore; they were pressed against each other so closely there was almost no room for movement, and it became difficult to differentiate their limbs, bodies, breaths and heartbeats.

"When you say 'next time'," said Ronove, his eyes boring into Battler's, "are you suggesting… You're going to make a habit of this?"

"Why not?"

"It's nice to have a hobby, but couldn't you have chosen one less likely to enrage Milady?"

"Maybe you should've thought about that before you started flirting with _me_, then. You reap what you sew and all- ri~ight? Ihihi…"

"…Touché."

And Battler decided to mark his small victory by pressing his lips against Ronove's once more. He used slightly less force than last time but he was still rough- demanding- and Battler knew if Ronove had tried to kiss him with that intensity last time, Battler would've punched him in the face.

Ronove didn't do that, though.

Instead, he gave in.

One of Battler's arms remained round Ronove's waist, keeping the other pressed flush against his body- because Battler didn't want him to leave, he refused to let him leave.

Ronove was his.

The fingers of Battler's free hand, however, came to bury themselves in Ronove's hair- pushing Ronove's head against Battler's, forcing their lips together, even when Battler felt sure he had to stop, to pause for breath...

But he couldn't.

He didn't want to.

"A-ah..."

And then Battler heard Ronove moan (or did that sound come from him? N-no- Battler's voice wasn't that deep, that was _definitely _Ronove), the noise soft and breathy and so completely removed from Ronove's calm and collected persona that Battler couldn't bite back his own gasp, and he felt himself becoming almost painfully hard...

It was Ronove who broke their kiss, moving his head away- but a trail of saliva, thin and flimsy like thread, or a spiders' web continued to connect their parted lips.

Battler was almost glad it was there, because it proved that had actually happened- he _had_ actually kissed Ronove- and he wasn't just going insane, or hallucinating, or just plain daydreaming (as Battler was prone to do in the meta world, as there was little else to do. Usually Battler had daydreams about Beato in various states of undress or in skimpy bikinis, but there was a first time for everything...? Even really disturbing imaginings?)

But the trail of saliva ('saliva' was such an ugly word, Battler mused- mainly because thinking about pointless things like that kept his mind off various other, more pressing matters, that were of far more importance) soon snapped, as though it had never been there at all.

But Ronove was sat on Battler's lap, their bodies pressed together in a way that would have made most people faint.

_Especially Aunt Natsuhi._

_What would she do if she knew?_

_I-I don't even want to think about._

_She'd probably try to kick me out of the Ushiromiya family all over again- and she'd say something like 'you're ruining our honourable name!', and maybe I am, but it feels pretty fucking good 'ruining our honourable name' right now, ihihihi…_

_N-ngh..._

Battler felt himself flush slightly, despite his attempts not to, as Ronove shifted in his lap _ever_ so slightly. It was a small movement- hardly noticeable- but Battler's body was far too sensitive, and the slightest touch was enough to make him shiver, like he had an acute case of hypothermia.

"A-ah..._ S-shit_… M-mm… T-that feels r-really good… A-ah…"

Battler swore- but all the strength had escaped his body, and he didn't have the energy (or the willpower, for that matter) to push Ronove away. Instead, he let his head fall against Ronove's shoulder, collapsing against Beato's butler like a puppet with cut strings. His arms went slack, their grip round Ronove's waist loosening, his quick, swallow breaths brushing against the exposed skin of Ronove's neck.

Even though Ronove was a demon, it would've been easy for Battler to pierce his skin- to draw blood- especially as he was so close... Ronove had thoughts and feelings like a normal person, too, and if Battler bit against that skin on his neck (it looked thin, far too thin- like paper- and suddenly Battler's mind was occupied with an idea, an 'interesting experiment') he knew it'd hurt.

How was Ronove's skin so flawless, unblemished?

It pissed Battler off.

_It's not fair._

_All the witches and demons I've met are impossibly gorgeous- I bet they've never had, like, skin complaints or bags under their eyes or stupid hair that won't lie flat (even though my hair is not stupid, it's part of who I am!) or anything._

_Well, I'll just have to correct that._

_Ushiromiya Battler- fighting for justice and equality one hickey at a time?_

_..._

_...Sure, why not?_

_It makes about as much sense as anything else in this place._

Battler slowly, almost hesitantly, pressed his lips- they were wet, slick with moisture from his rather heated activities with Ronove's mouth- against Ronove's neck.

The response he got was instantaneous, and incredibly rewarding.

"A-ah... Battler...? W-what...?"

But if Ronove could still speak in a language that was semi-understandable, then Battler hadn't won; he hadn't broken him down enough.

This was one game Battler wanted to win with a perfect 'checkmate'.

"Don't sound so surprised," Battler murmured against Ronove's neck. "Mayyy~be I got a little sick of you teasing _me _all the time."

"Ahaha..." Ronove gave a strange sound, halfway between a laugh and a sigh- and it sounded more like a heavy exhalation of air than anything else.

And it was urging Battler to continue.

To see what other 'interesting' sounds he could draw from Ronove- sounds he would never normally make…

Battler muffled his own groan by biting down on Ronove's neck, the skin there already damp from Battler's tentative licks and teasing kisses- and Battler felt Ronove flinch underneath him and then Ronove was tipping his head back slightly, subconscious or not Battler didn't know, but Ronove was allowing him a great access to every inch of skin on his neck…

It was submission.

Complete and utter submission.

And Battler felt himself grew even harder, even more erect, at this thought.

_And you say __Beato's__ the one with the weird fetishes._

_You hypocrite._

"I-if this is what happens... when I annoy you..." said Ronove, words interspaced with soft moans (invitations for Battler to continue), "m-maybe I should do it more..."

Battler drew his lips, teeth, tongue away from Ronove's neck at that comment. He was satisfied to note he'd left a mark; an ugly red welt on the butler's pale skin that Battler knew was going to bruise and turn blackish-purple before long- a reminder that Battler had managed to dominate Ronove for once, not the other way round, and Battler was the stronger one now.

Battler smirked, lifting his head slightly so he could meet Ronove's half-lidded gaze with one of his own.

"Maybe you should," said Battler, his voice teasing. "Then I'd have an excuse to do _this_ more."

In one fluid motion Battler caught Ronove's lower lip with his teeth. He tugged- but he didn't exert enough pressure to break the skin, to induce blood.

But he used just enough force to let Ronove know who was in control now.

It only lasted a few seconds, and Battler quickly released Ronove's lip from his teeth; however, the moan the simple motion produced from Ronove was enough to make Battler's heartbeat triple in speed.

Looking back on it retrospectively, that probably wasn't healthy.

The bruise on Ronove's neck didn't look healthy, either. His skin was still slick from Battler's kisses- and, when exposed to the unusually cold air, it was enough to procure a string of shudders from Ronove, as he pressed himself closer against Battler for warmth- and had it always been that cold- had the air always pierced through flesh like sewing needles- or was Battler imagining things in his strange state of hyper-awareness?

"I-I don't mean to offend you... But I am now convinced there's something wrong with your head," Ronove said, voice breathless- but just the slightest trace of a smile tugged at his lips.

"I feel fine," said Battler, feigning innocence- which was easier said than done, considering he was almost painfully aroused, and every time Ronove moved, ever so slightly, in his lap he had to bite his lip (his own lip this time, not Ronove's) to stop himself gasping. "I don't know what you're talking about~"

"And now you have amnesia. This is most unfortunate."

"Maybe you should try and jolt my memory then? Kikikiki~"

"D-don't laugh like that."

"Why noo~ttt?~" Battler drawled, drawing the syllables out in 'not' for far too long until they almost reached their breaking point- and he knew he sounded immature, childish, but he didn't care, he couldn't think of much else but Ronove and his lips and tongue and teeth and wet, hot, warm, slick, sex and it was difficult holding a conversation at all when he just wanted to push Ronove down and penetrate him with his cock and…

"You're beginning to sound l-like Milady..." said Ronove, drawing Battler away from his fantasies- which didn't seem all that 'fantastic', given their positions. "I-I think you've been hanging around with her too long..."

Battler made a face.

The idea of Beatrice- no, not just Beatrice, of _anyone_- touching Ronove like that was beginning to irritate him.

"_She _wouldn't do this," said Battler, his fingers playing across the front of Ronove's pants to further punctuate his point.

"N-not to me she wouldn't, c-certainly. I'd be mortified… A-ah…" Ronove gasped, as Battler began to stroke him through his pants. "A-ah, y-your hands s-seem to be… w-wandering… a-a little…"

"I'm aware of that."

"Y-you know- a-ah… Ha… T-that Milady likes you… Battler…?"

"Well, she wouldn't anymore, if she could see what I was doing~"

"Don't be so positive... R-rather, I'm sure she'd begin to hate me- _a-ah..." _Ronove broke off, swallowing his words, as Battler's fingers tore away from the bulge in his pants- instead, fisting in his hair and he pulling him closer for another kiss.

"N-ngh... W-who are you, a-and what have you done to the real Ushiromiya Battler?" Ronove asked, words fractured and punctuated with far too many ellipses as Battler's hands caught Ronove's hips, pushing their bodies together, creating unbearable friction even though their mouths were no longer occupied or pressed against each other's.

"I-I kinda don't want to be cross-examined here. I-I'm a little b-busy, y'know?" Battler muttered, voice thick with lust, his lips pressing against Ronove's neck once more.

"Brain engaged, please come back later?"

"S-something like that... W-why don't you leave a message after the tone?" Battler asked, smirking.

"I-I have to admire your wit, even in... situations... l-like this..." Ronove said. It sounded like he was trying to force the words out of his throat- as though his mind was in the process of a meltdown, and he couldn't think properly, could barely remember how to breathe, or even talk at all.

"Y-yours too."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. I-ihihi..."

Battler couldn't help but laugh at that exchange, ridiculous as it was- especially giving their positions. And, after a short pause, Ronove was laughing too- albeit very breathlessly, punctuated with moans.

"I-I swear, you must have hit your head or something," said Ronove.

"Maybe... I don't care."

"That's quite worrying. I-I think I should be checking you for a concussion, instead of... of..."

"Sticking your tongue down my throat? Ihihihi~"

"Ah, hearing your vulgarities are always so refreshing~ B-but… If you had internal haemorrhaging- which seems incredibly likely- and you died, I'd feel incredibly guilty."

"H-how can you even say that?"

"What, that I'd feel guilty?"

"No. Hameo... h-h... a-ah... Blahhh."

Battler frowned- and then decided to alleviate his irritation at his sudden, distressing lapse of knowledge in his own language by pressing down on Ronove's hips again, pushing their bodies together, feeling Ronove's arousal through his pants and s-stupid fucking clothes...

And yet, despite his messy hair and slightly flushed face, Ronove still managed to smirk- and he still managed to say, using the same mischievous tones as usual, "H-haemorrhaging? Is that what you were trying to say so eloquently?"

"Gah." Battler made a small noise of irritation at the back of his throat- and he bumped Ronove's forehead against his, scowling. "I-if you can still say words with more than one syllable, then I-I'm not working hard enough..."

"I-it's already... hard enough..."

"Y-yeah." Battler smirked, his fingers slipping from Ronove's hips, down towards the front of his pants again. "I-I can tell. M'not_ that_ stupid."

Battler's light touches managed to elicit another low moan from Ronove. Ronove was shivering- and he pressed himself down against Battler of his own accord this time, his arms moving round Battler's middle, pulling him even closer.

"T-this... Is a rather terrible idea," Ronove muttered- but he was still inviting Battler's touches, his lips only inches from Battler's ear, and he wasn't making any effort to push him away. "T-this... A-ah..."

"What?" Battler asked, staring up at Ronove from underneath his lashes. He smirked, his fingers caressing Ronove through his pants- before, his movements had been feather-light, but now they were stronger, more assured, as Battler continued to take control, to dominate. "It's okay when _you _flirt with me, but not when I respond? How is that fair?~"

"B-because... T-to be honest... Ngh... I-I never thought that you'd respond... A-at least, not like this..."

"You make it sound like you want me to punch you or something."

"I-it'd probably hurt less... than what Milady will do to me... w-when she finds out..."

Battler frowned- but he didn't stop pressing against Ronove, drawing more stutters and gasps from Ronove's lips that made Battler want to devour him, kiss and lick every inch of his flesh like a cake, or some other weird simile that wasn't all that suitable and...

A-and Battler's brain was really too fried to think of a proper simile at that moment, so he decided he'd scrap the weird imagery and just focus on what was really happening.

Ronove.

On top of him.

Pressed against him.

Gasping and muttering his name, pressing his lips against his throat, arms pulling Battler closer, skin faintly flushed, neck marked with dark bruises- desperate and needy and whimpering and obviously erect.

Trying to be responsible- knowing he should tell Battler to stop- and yet loving every minute of it.

Battler pressed another kiss against Ronove's lips, both their mouths open, and Battler could hardly tell who was touching who anymore- it was all a blur, a mess of assorted sounds and warmth and pressure, wet and slick and it would be so easy to drown in a sensation like that...

Battler drew away for air, inhaling heavily- and Ronove did the same, his head falling against Battler's chest, and Battler tried to pull him even closer- but it wasn't physically possible, and there were too many clothes in the way...

"D-don't talk about Beato now, okay?" Battler said, his voice dropping in timbre, fingers reaching under Ronove's shirt, tracing nonsensical patterns against his skin. "Don't. Or you'll piss me off. And then I won't be nearly so nice to you."

"M-mm... I wouldn't want that, would I? Haha..."

"No." Battler prodded Ronove in the side with his fingers, dragging his nails against Ronove's skin- and he didn't do it with enough force for it to hurt, but Ronove still trembled under his touch. "No, you wouldn't want that..."

"I don't understand..." Ronove mumbled, his breath ghosting across Battler's exposed skin- and Battler could hardly suppress a thrill of sick, twisted pleasure as Ronove admitted his own failings.

Admitted Battler was superior.

"What don't you understand?" Battler asked.

"The processing fluency theory of atheistic pleasure~"

"R-right..."

Then, Battler frowned.

"Wait, what?"

"Aha... Pu ku ku..." Laughing, Ronove lifted his head- his blue eyes boring directly into Battler's. "I was joking~ I got you~"

Ronove pressed a few kisses against the side of Battler's mouth. They were light, gentle; the polar opposite of Battler's crushing desire to be in control. It was almost as if Ronove _could _overpower Battler, but… simply… didn't want to.

In fact, Battler was sure- 100% positive- that Ronove could've pushed him away with relative ease. Just because telepathy wasn't part of a demon's skill set, it didn't mean they were completely powerless; and Battler was sure Ronove was strong- stronger than the stakes, at any rate.

Battler wasn't sure whether his pride should be wounded by that or not- but the fact he'd managed to keep Ronove in place, when he held no real physical power over him at all, was some kind of accomplishment.

"H-ha… I-I think you're just trying to show off… T-that you can still speak words… W-with so many fucking syllables," Battler said, frowning. "T-trying to make me look bad…"

"W-well, I have had more experience than you," said Ronove smoothly, some of his usual composure coming through in his words.

"And you usually have long discussions about philosophy with the people you're intending to screw, hmn?" Battler asked, rolling his eyes.

"No. I prefer world history. Not that you'd know much about that."

Ronove smirked.

Battler… didn't much like that smirk.

He was going to smash it.

"S-shut up. M'not _that_ young," Battler retorted, biting Ronove's neck again.

"A-ah… Ahh… T-that may… be the case… But I really am _that_ old~"

"N-now you sound like a f-fucking creeper…"

"And yet you're the one who's taking advantage of _me_~ A-and I really… D-don't understand... Why you're d-doing this," said Ronove. "U-unless you have some severe mental health problems I have yet to discover."

"Huh. So somebody starts making out with you, a-and you think they've got mental health problems? That line of reasoning sounds pretty unhealthy..."

"It's not that I doubt my skills- but I did doubt that _you_ would be particularly interested in them," Ronove said, kissing the side of Battler's mouth again- and grinding their arousals together to punctuate his point.

Battler gave another moan, his eyes fluttering; the heat was getting unbearable, and he was sure in any second he was going to... B-because of Ronove...

And that was, quite frankly, incredibly disturbing.

At least...

Battler's past self would've thought it was disturbing, certainly- even his past self from so much as one day ago.

But, at that moment, it didn't seem disturbing at all.

Instead, it was... impossibly sexy...

But Battler narrowed his eyes- tried to keep his resolve from crumbling. He'd initiated these kisses (these 'kisses' that were now so much more than that; and what they were doing was probably kind of indecent, and what if somebody walked in? Beatrice'd probably try and feed him to the weird cannibal goats again), and he wasn't going to be first one who... W-who gave in...

Battler smirked.

A dangerous smirk.

When he next spoke, his voice was soft.

Sensual.

He hadn't come this far so he could lose; and he was going to beat Ronove at his own game.

"Maybe I _am _interested."

"O-or delusional."

Battler laughed, his teeth nipping against Ronove's neck once more- and his hands untangled themselves from underneath Ronove's shirt; they began to work at loosening his cravat, trying to expose more flesh; but, at the same time, he was still using his cravat to pull Ronove forwards, keeping his mouth against his neck, not breaking contact.

"Mm~ I'm not _delusional_..." Battler said, teeth began to bite at the still-forming bruise he'd already inflicted.

"I-I must delusional, then... l-let you do this... A-ah... T-this is so... i-irresponsible..."

"Yeah. It is. Maybe you just got swept up by the teenage hormones?"

"I-I would hope I'm… more mature than that…"

"Then just say you tried to refuse, but I said no. And overpowered you."

"Y-yes… Pu ku ku… I-I always knew you were stubborn, and when you're like this you're almost… A-ah… _I-impossible."_

Battler began to lick at one of the ugly marks on Ronove's neck, trailing his tongue along his marked flesh- before moving back and exhaling against it gently, his icy cold breath making Ronove shudder.

Battler's fingers were still tugging at Ronove's coat- his cravat had been untied now and thrown aside, but Battler couldn't remember doing it, and he wasn't sure whether he should be worried about his sudden lapse in memory or not.

Maybe he really _was_ insane?

It would certainly explain his strange behaviour.

_I-I really don't want to think about this right now._

_I'll do it tomorrow._

"Do you want me to tell you why I'm doing this?" Battler asked, muttering the words against Ronove's neck.

"I-if... i-it wouldn't take... t-too much time from your busy schedule..."

Battler smirked again, his arms wrapping round Beato's butler- _his _toy- in a darkly possessive manner.

"I doubt you'd believe me~ But it's the truth."

"T-try speaking it in red, then...?"

"What? Right _now_?" Battler made a face. "Wouldn't that kill the mood?"

"I-it wouldn't for me~" said Ronove, words still spliced up badly, syllable sounds scattered (Battler wondered if Ronove could say 'haemorrhaging' anymore, of if he'd lost the ability- but he didn't really care if that was the case. Being able to say complex medical terms during sex ((or foreplay, as it were)) really wasn't that much of a turn-on. Ronove sounded a lot better when he could hardly talk at all). the ability was lost now)

However, when Ronove next spoke- despite his soft moans and sighs- there was obvious amusement in his words.

"I-I would be more inclined to do what you want... _whatever you want_... if you managed to satisfy my curiosity."

"W-whatever I want, huh?"

"I promise. _Anything."_

Ronove placed further emphasis on the final word by pressing his erection against Battler's again, his fingers going to the front of Battler's pants- and Battler moaned, the sound muffled by Ronove's neck, as he bit down on his skin just a little too hard in surprise.

"I-I still... can't speak in red truth... _**Idiot**_," Battler said, punctuating his words with more kisses to Ronove's neck.

"I could fix that for you. Just this once~"

"A-ah..."

Ronove was still caressing Battler through his pants, still keeping their bodies pressed together, until the heat was almost unbearable- and Battler was beginning to feel a bit like he was being manipulated, but he didn't care; he just wanted more of that heat, that friction, and they still had far too many clothes on and, a-and...

"A-alright. I-I'll tell you. I'll tell you the truth."

Or, at least, most of it.

Not the bit about the 'love potion' though- because that was just pathetic.

When Battler next spoke- choosing his words carefully (though it was a tad difficult, his brain being hazy with desire; words weren't his strong point anyway, and all he wanted to do was pin Ronove down and take him up on that offer- see just how far the offer of 'I'll do anything' really went)- his speech was tinted with red.

"_I keep thinking about you. I-it's driving me insane. And right now, all I want to do is fuck you."_

Ronove's eyes widened at this.

Then, he began to flush.

He was really, truly flushing- just as badly as Battler had done before- and his eyes were too wide, and his breath was coming out in short, sharp gasps. His lips were bruised, his neck speckled with black and purple marks, most of his coat had fallen from his shoulders, and his shirt was almost completely unbuttoned, his hair was far messier than usual...

And Battler wanted him.

Wanted to be inside of him.

"I-is that so…?"

Battler hadn't realised he'd spoken that aloud until Ronove replied.

"Y-you really are incurably crazy, U-ushiromiya Battler…"

"I-I'm starting to think that for myself, too~"

"C-couldn't you have phrased it a little better? Made it sound more... flattering?" Ronove asked- and he was smirking too, just slightly, although his face was still flushed. "'I want to fuck you'? 'I want to be inside you'? I mean- isn't that a tad vulgar?"

"H-hey, I'm a horny teenager a-and I really need... to… l-let off some steam… I-ihihi... I-if you want 'poetry', go read Shakespeare or something."

Ronove began to laugh- and then so did Battler, as Battler's fingers began to unbutton Ronove's shirt, and Ronove himself began to help him with his endeavour.

"...Are you satisfied with my answer?" Battler asked, tilting his head to one side.

"W-with your answer? No, n-not at all."

"Hey." Battler's eyes narrowed. "It was incredibly heart-felt."

"I-I'm sure it was… H-however… I-if we're talking about your… attempts at foreplay… I-I'm very s-satisfied… And incredibly confused... A-and worried for your mental health... A-and flattered... A-and... Ah..."

Battler pressed another kiss against Ronove's lips, and Ronove was only too obliging to open his mouth- to accommodate Battler- and Battler bit down suddenly, sharply on Ronove's tongue- and Battler had to pause to wonder why, exactly, he was so fixated on biting people.

Maybe he had a problem.

If he kept trying to tear out mouthfuls of flesh from any girls he might possibly date in the future, would they be pissed off with him?

Ronove didn't seem to mind, but Ronove was just… weird…

B-but Battler didn't really know why he was thinking about girls- he didn't have enough room in his mind; not when Ronove's tongue was in his mouth, Ronove's arms round his waist, and Ronove's erection pressed against Battler's.

When they drew apart another string of saliva connected them, connected their parted lips- but Battler was in no hurry to pull away, to sever their 'bond' so easily.

"And...?" Battler prompted.

Ronove dipped his head, kissing Battler's neck; but, at the same time, Battler's fingers were tugging at Ronove's clothes and Ronove was helping him, unbuttoning his shirt when Battler's shaking hands could no longer finish the job.

Then, Ronove muttered, so softly against Battler's neck that Battler almost missed it- and, even though Battler _**did**_ hear it, he swore he'd heard wrong, or made some mistake, because Ronove would never say that, would he…?

But Battler could tell, from Ronove's smile- his horribly sincere smile- that it had been true.

"You can... f-fuck me if you want... _Master_~"

* * *

**a/n: **THIS, RIGHT HERE, IS THE MOST RISQUE THING I HAVE /EVER/ (seriously) WRITTEN IN MY LIFE.  
And it's not even a lemon.  
But it came pretty close O / / / O  
And I honestly don't think I can /write/ anything more intense than this.

Doesn't stuff like this get a bit boring to read?

I hope this isn't boring.  
I really do.

I mean, I usually skip scenes like this in most fics because they get a little samey and repetitive, so I hope it wasn't /too/ repetitive?  
And I hope they were still IC ;A;

(please tell me what you thought cause if you don't I'll get really paranoid and I'll start think my ~sensuous~ writing is really shit and I should go back to humour XD)

**~renahhchen xoxoxo  
**(who doesn't usually ask for feedback, but this is so far out of my comfort zone I really /would/ appreciate some feedback this time, kay thanks :3)


	9. A terrible liar

**An Unfortunate Outcome  
**Chapter Nine

'A terrible liar'

* * *

"A-ah... B-battler... A-ah..."

If Battler hadn't been so exhausted already- legs caught amongst Ronove's, lips pressed at his neck, his whole body trembling- he would've found that incredibly arousing. Ronove sounded so helpless; his cool persona was all but shattered, like a broken mirror, and every sound that came from his mouth was sharp, jagged and completely desperate.

Needy.

Ronove _needed_ Battler.

Battler's lips continued to press against Ronove's neck- and Battler wasn't sure why he had such a fascination with that damn butler's neck, of all things, but he couldn't stop himself. Ronove's skin was already marked so badly with a mix of black and purple bruises, a series of teeth marks running from the top of his neck to the place where it met with his shoulder, that it almost looked like something from an impressionist's painting; dark splotches of color splashed violently onto a white canvass.

But Battler's mind was a little too pre-occupied to make any comparisons between skin and art at that moment; and, even if Battler hadn't been buried deep inside Ronove, his back arching and hands wandering, he would never have thought of such a simile anyway. Poetic language wasn't Battler's strong point- as was proven with Beatrice's 'cow tits'.

And Battler had certainly never tried to wax poetic on _Ronove._

But it was different now.

When Battler had sat drinking tea and glaring sourly at Beato and her butler from the other side of the room (and that seemed oh-so-long-ago now it was almost nostalgic), Battler had never envisioned- not in his strangest daydreams- that _**this**_ would happen.

It hadn't even crossed his mind.

If it ever had done- the image of himself being that close to Ronove, _inside _of Ronove, thrusting in and out in a mess of delicious friction and too-hot heat- he would have been seriously disturbed.

He would've thought there was something wrong with him.

Hell- maybe there _was_ something wrong with him.

Maybe Ronove was right; maybe he really _had_ hit his head.

Maybe he had an internal blood clot on his brain and he was going to die.

Hmn… That wasn't really the best imagery to relate to sex, was it? Especially not his first time. Then again, Battler wasn't going to try and sugar-coat the situation, or say it was amazing and wonderful and rainbows like those weird romance novels he'd found in his mother's room at age six (when he'd questioned her about them, with typical six-year-old wide-eyed innocence, Asumu had gone very red and Battler had half-believed she was going to spontaneously combust).

Truth be told, fucking Ronove (Battler was sure he'd go as red as his mother had done all those years ago when he found her adult erotica books under her bed if he called it something so sappy as 'making love') wasn't at all like what Battler had expected.

The fact he even had expectations about it was kind of worrying, in itself (had he been thinking about it sub-consciously? Was that just normal for a sex-deprived teenager? But it wasn't like Battler could _ask_ anybody about it).

It was… strange.

It certainly wasn't 'normal' (at least, it wasn't what Battler would've called 'normal'- not by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, Beatrice's claims she was an a thousand year old witch whose tits somehow hadn't, magically, succumbed to the power of gravity throughout her old age, were more believable than this scenario).

This… shouldn't have happened.

It shouldn't have happened at all.

Battler's plan of action in the meta world had never been 'try to save my family, defeat Beato, and- oh yeah- have sex with her butler until he whimpers my name and melts against my every touch.'

But…

It was happening.

It was easy denying witches when Battler looked at it with Virgilia's cat box rationale, but how could he deny the feelings coursing through his body as he merged his body together with Ronove's?

That would've been just a _little_ bit trickier.

It wasn't really his fault though, Battler reasoned.

It was all because of Asmobub.

Battler would never have been able to guess that, one day, Asmobub would spike his early morning tea with a 'love potion' (which Battler was now sure, judging by the way he was thrusting into Ronove, was just some meta world euphemism for 'Viagra').

Or that he'd fall in love (if you call this 'love') with Ronove.

But they had, and he had (sort of…)- and this was the result.

Battler had never thought (why would he have thought?) that he would ever, at any point during his stay in the meta world, end up holding Ronove this close; pulling in and out of his yielding, trembling body in a mess of friction and dizzying heat, running his tongue down his neck and then biting down because it felt _good_, impossibly good, and he didn't want it to stop...

Battler's teeth continued to bite at Ronove's neck- and every time he did, forming more bruises on top of bruises, Ronove would gasp, but it was getting hard to tell who was making what noises now when everything was a mess of moans and Battler's teeth, tongue, lips, continued to abuse pale flesh, taking in as much of it as he could- and Ronove tilted his head back, shivering, allowing Battler's mouth access to more of his skin.

Ronove was all-but whimpering- the combined slick, wet sensations of being bitten again and again and Battler's thrusting motions too much, it was impossible to remain unaffected.

Ronove's calm demeanour had vanished altogether.

It was an accomplishment.

A victory.

Checkmate?

But Battler's own mind was far too preoccupied, lost in a haze of lust that had clouded his thoughts, to give that too much thought- and while he was the one buried in Ronove, now biting hard enough to break the skin, he didn't really feel like he'd 'won' anything.

Then again...

Did this really have to be a 'game'?

Everything else in the meta world was- split stomachs stuffed with candy and gruesome Halloween banquets and all- but this was completely different; and Battler had long since forgotten how they'd ended up like that (a small voice at the back of his mind muttered something along the lines of 'fucking Asmobub', but he couldn't pay it too much heed), or for what reason.

But Battler didn't really care.

And that was probably the most worrying thing.

He truly didn't care.

"A-ah… B-battler…"

Battler's eyes widened as the sharp, metallic tang of blood spread across his tongue.

Ronove's neck was bleeding.

Battler hadn't meant to bite that hard, he really hadn't- but what he'd meant to do didn't matter when he'd already done it. Ronove's skin- which before had been so pale and flawless and enviously soft- was now punctured, the open wound surrounded with an ugly blackish-purple. It oozed droplets of crimson slowly- very, very slowly, as droplets of perspiration would run down windowpanes.

Ronove hissed as Battler's teeth broke skin- but whether it was in pain or pleasure, Battler couldn't tell.

Maybe both?

Battler… couldn't help but feel a little guilty.

Having bits of your flesh gouged off during sex probably wasn't all that appealing (unless you were into cannibalism or really liked zombie movies)- but, then again, what did Battler know? He'd never done this before (had never even dreamed about doing _**this**_ before, because whenever he'd thought of sex his mind always jumped to hot Western girls with nice figures and blonde hair, but this... really wasn't that bad... at all...), and Battler didn't know what was meant to feel good or not, and he'd probably hurt Ronove...

"A-ahh... A-ah..."

Yep.

That sharp intake of breath didn't sound so healthy.

Slowly, almost tentatively (which seemed bizarre, given the position they were in- and how desperately, almost violently, Battler had thrusting into Ronove, again and again), Battler let the tip of his tongue press against the wound he'd caused.

Blood didn't really taste that good- and it wasn't pleasant, not really, and Battler had half a mind to spit it back out. He wasn't some sick freak like Beatrice who got turned on actively trying to hurt people.

Instead, it just made him feel kind of terrible (unless he was trying to hurt Asmobub- in which case, Battler would've been only too happy to try and smash their skulls together).

But Battler wasn't trying to clean Ronove's wound to hurt him- quite the opposite.

And Battler… couldn't stop…

The tip of his tongue began to glide across Ronove's neck, over the horrible wound he'd caused by his over-enthusiasm and lack of control, tracing lines of saliva across already abused and misused skin.

Battler moved slowly- almost gently.

He didn't want to hurt Ronove.

He didn't want Ronove to moan in pain.

He wanted him to sigh in pleasure.

Anybody could cause someone pain. It was easy- _way_ too easy- and Battler wouldn't have felt satisfied merely making Ronove whimper by pushing too hard, biting too much, tearing at skin or drawing more blood.

Battler wanted Ronove to feel good…

Wasn't that what sex was meant to be like, anyway?

And if Battler didn't do that, he'd have 'lost'.

Battler couldn't help but smirk, ever so slightly, as his affectionate licking and sucking at the injury on Ronove's neck was met with a perfect response.

Ronove shuddered helplessly at his touch- and Battler let his mouth engulf the wound on Ronove's neck completely, nipping the already abused flesh, but without any real malice behind it, his tongue pressing against the open wound. Ronove's head fell back at this motion- complete and utter submission, surrendering to Battler's tongue and lips- and he was gasping, trembling, and Battler felt _his_ whole body tremble too as he pressed into Ronove once more; deeper, this time, than he'd done before.

The effect it had on Ronove was instantaneous. His moan was low, plagued with lust and desire, that Battler figured maybe it was possible to 'win' at screwing somebody after all because he was doing it- he was defeating Ronove, breaking him down, until his resolve had all but washed away.

Battler was 'winning'.

And it felt a lot more satisfactory than 'defeating' Beato in _her_ sick, twisted games ever did.

"A-ah...!" Ronove cried, voice trembling almost as badly as his body, as Battler drew out of him slowly, too slowly- and the pain in his neck was almost indiscernible from the heat everywhere else, but Battler's tongue was still pressing against his skin, drawing more blood, and Battler was going far too slowly...

"H-ah..." Ronove breathed heavily, his eyes half-lidded with lust. "H-ha... B-battler..."

"I-I... M'not... having a... conversation _now_," Battler hissed back- and it was a wonder he managed to say 'conversation', managed to speak at all.

Talking required so much energy- and Battler would've rather used that energy to do something more productive.

Ronove's body tensed when Battler bit down on his neck and pushed into him at the same time, the movements perfectly synchronised- but it still wasn't enough.

"T-that's n-not it..."

"W-what's not it...? Y-you're not gonna... s-start an argument... o-or complain… r-right?"

"N-no…"

"C-cause if you do, I'll bite you."

"T-the threat… s'not so effective… w-when you've… already done t-that…"

"I-I'll do it _harder." _

"A-ah…" Ronove gasped again. "Y-yes… P-please! J-just… Ngh… Just…"

And then, Ronove said it.

His voice was shaky, filled with a heady mix of pain and pleasure, but Battler still heard.

And it made his heart constrict.

"P-please... F-fuck me harder, Master..."

_Please._

_Master._

From _Ronove._

Ronove- the same person who frequently teased Battler, standing too close and smiling that creepy smile- was begging with Battler to go harder.

To press his cock into him even further.

Ronove was…

"M-master…"

And, at that moment, everything in the universe stopped making sense.

Battler's inner thought process was completely destroyed- laid to waste.

Not even ashes remained.

Nothing existed but them.

Joined together.

And Battler… was shocked (but not as shocked as he thought he would've- should've- been) to find he didn't mind.

He wanted to be inside of Ronove.

And he wanted to indulge him in his request.

He wanted to.

Ronove was still gasping, shuddering and begging- really begging- for Battler to pull in and out of him, to fuck him harder.

"…O-okay. Okay. I'll… I'll do it. W-whatever you want."

"T-that was… a-ah… m-my line…"

And Battler couldn't help but smile, ever so slightly, at this comment; his lips pressed against Ronove's neck again, kissing the wound made by clumsy teeth and too much passion, as another apology.

"Shut up."

That was the last thing Battler said to Ronove- before he truly lost the ability to talk.

* * *

Battler shuddered as he reached his climax, his thoughts warped through a haze of lust and want and a thousand other things besides- all vying for space in his head until he barely knew what he was called or how old he was.

It really was getting very, very crowded in his brain.

He was beginning to feel dizzy.

It would've been _oh_-so-much-fun trying to formulate an argument against Beatrice's cruel and unusual series of murders with his thoughts all jumbled up like that. Battler doubted he could even speak, let alone **think**- but the fact he was able to think enough to doubt his own thought process let him know his mind wasn't completely fried yet.

"A-ah... R-ronove..."

"M-master!"

"Ngh..."

Battler's caressing fingers drew away from Ronove. They were sticky- and Battler couldn't help but wince, just a little, at this. Battler got the feeling wincing at such a thing was incredibly immature considering the amount of times he'd done it to himself in the privacy of his bedroom. Or maybe that was more 'hypocritical' than immature?

But Battler couldn't help his flushed cheeks.

He hadn't just been masturbating in his room with pictures of sexy girls in magazines when Kyrie and Rudolf and Ange (Battler would _never_ want to mentally scar Ange like that) were out this time.

He hadn't been by himself.

He'd been with Ronove…

He'd just jerked off _Ronove._

And that was one sentence Battler thought he'd _**never**_ hear himself thinking.

But Battler didn't really have enough energy to be appalled/disgusted/confused, or any other combination of emotions that would've been fitting for the situation.

That was how he should've been feeling.

That would be the _normal _response.

However, Battler felt… warm.

Strangely content.

And maybe just a little victorious.

Battler's body slumped against Ronove's, completely devoid of energy- he barely had the strength to keep his eyelids open.

He barely had enough strength to question what, exactly, he'd done.

And that was probably a good thing.

_You're going to regret this so much tomorrow._

_Or today._

_In a _few minutes.

But, at that moment Battler didn't care.

He didn't have energy to bring himself to care.

Battler pulled out of Ronove slowly. The motion was rewarded with a small 'a-ah...' exhale of breath from Beato's butler.

Battler felt his heart flutter at this sound- this soft, hardly audible whimper.

He had done that.

_He_ had made Ronove whimper.

And that was quite the accomplishment.

Seized with a sudden, childish urge to claim Ronove- claim the person he'd previously held such control over, who he'd make gasp and shake with touches of his fingers, lips and tongue- Battler grabbed hold of Ronove's shoulders (his hands were shaking) and turned him round, so they were facing each other.

Then, smirking- ever so slightly- Battler wrapped his arms round Ronove, pulling him against his chest.

"Mine."

"I-I didn't realise you were so possessive," Ronove said. His voice sounded less... 'smooth' than usual, and far more exhausted; but there was still the lightest touch of humour in his words.

Maybe he was even flattered.

Just a little.

Ronove returned embrace after a moment's pause, letting his head rest against Battler's chest. His hair always looked so nice and well-kempt, Battler thought- but now it was messy, completely disordered, and almost as unruly as Battler's red spikes.

"Hey. _You _were the one so willing to be dominated," said Battler, smirking. "'Fuck me harder, master?'"

"You remember I said that?" Ronove asked- and he sounded amused. "Word for word?"

"There weren't many words to remember. And it was kind of difficult to forget," said Battler, rolling his eyes. "Y-you think I'd let that slide so easily? I thought you were all for being 'eloquent' and using fifty words when five'd do. T-that's, like, how you roll."

"I thought you'd appreciate the vulgarities more than any long-lasting, poetic declarations of love," said Ronove, grinning. "I decided to keep it short and sweet."

"S-so…" Battler's eyes widened slightly at this- and then he shot Ronove a glare sour enough to curdle milk. "You _knew _what you were doing! Y-you were trying to manipulate me by acting all helpless!"

"Perhaps~ I am a rather proficient liar."

"E-even in _sex_?"

"If Miss Gaap- who is perhaps more transparent than her strangest, most disturbing of outfits- can fake her orgasms, then _I_ can certainly pretend to be needy and desperate~ It's not difficult."

"G-gaap… Orgasms?" Battler blinked slowly, as those two words- words that shouldn't have belonged in the same sentence because he _really _didn't want to picture it- hit him upside the head. "H-how do you know that?"

Then Battler shuddered.

"I-I don't want to know…"

"Miss Gaap is very partial to sharing the details of her sex life with anybody who'll listen. Especially when she's been drinking. It is… truly quite a sight to behold."

"I'll bet." Battler made a face- and then he scowled, eyes narrowing. "So you were only pretending to be submissive?"

It was a lie?

Somehow, that irritated Battler.

It irritated him far more than it should've done.

Battler had wanted to dominate Ronove; to defeat him completely. But if Ronove had been performing some intricate act to fool Battler- to make him feel like he'd won, only to reveal at the last moment everything had been carefully calculated- then it meant nothing.

It was an empty victory.

It wasn't even a 'victory' at all.

(But- that previous voice from before muttered in Battler's mind- did it really have to be a 'game' at all?)

"It wasn't_ all_ an act," Ronove amended his previous statement. He smiled- and it wasn't a cruel smile, or a mocking one; although it still held some vestiges of mischief. "It's very hard to 'act' when you're being penetrated so vigorously~ You should try it sometime."

Battler's face flushed. "I-I'd rather not."

"If it makes you feel any better, you should know…" Ronove's voice dropped in volume, as he pressed his lips against Battler's ear. "That I meant most of what I said~" He bit down on the flesh beneath his lips gently- so gently it couldn't possibly have hurt, but Battler still gasped. "And _all_ of what I did."

"H-huh?" Battler turned to look at Ronove, eyes widening, face flushed from Ronove's words and proximity- legs tangled together, clothes strewn haphazardly about his room as they'd pulled them off each other. "If you really meant it you shouldn't lie and try to confuse me. Then again, I guess it'd be pretty stupid if I expected anything other than lies from _you_. It'd be stupid to expect fucking you would suddenly make you a decent human being- or decent 'demon' or whatever, but I guess that's impossible 'cause it's an idiom- and I wouldn't even try."

"Battler~"

"_What?"_

"The word is 'oxymoron'. Not 'idiom'~" Ronove corrected, his voice adapting a teasing lilt.

"I don't want a vocab test right now, okay?"

"_And _you were babbling."

Battler's face flushed ever so slightly at this comment.

He always did talk too much when he didn't know what to say- a rather painful irony, especially when he was with girls he wanted to impress (Battler was generally a pretty smooth talker, but in certain scenarios his mouth made words before his brain could stop it, resulting in some pretty cheesy lines and terrible dialogue that always made him cringe afterwards).

"I-I'm babbling 'cause you're confusing me. You're pissing me off an-mmph…"

Battler's voice trailed off as Ronove pressed his lips against his- and Ronove used Battler's still open mouth, lips parted in surprise, to his advantage. He pressed his tongue against Battler's, exploring the inside of his mouth- as his hands moved to pull Battler even closer to his body, and he caught Battler's legs between his until it was impossible for Battler to move away.

Battler felt breathless, dizzy- almost light-headed- when Ronove pulled away.

Tired…

He was so tired.

"H-hey, Ronove…" Battler found himself mumbling- found his eyelids fluttering. He tried to keep them open but they pressed together insistently, as though they weighed several kilograms.

Refusing to listen to him.

Well, fuck them, then; Battler wasn't even going to _try_ to keep them open anymore.

He didn't care.

"What is it, Battler?" Ronove asked- not a trace of sarcasm to the 'Battler'. He didn't draw it out a single second too long. Not like Beatrice would've done.

It was so strange, hearing his name spoken like that.

So comforting…

Almost soothing.

"W-what do you think…" Battler frowned, biting his lower lip; he didn't want to ask the question, but he couldn't really avoid it. "Beato will say about this?"

There was a short pause.

Then Ronove laughed softly- and Battler didn't think the prospect of Beatrice tearing his body apart limb from limb was all that hi~la~ri~ous,_ actually_, but he felt too tired to press the issue.

"I'm sure you can imagine what Milady will say without any speculations from me."

"Y-yeah…" Battler frowned. "But I don't really want to try."

"Neither do I."

"T-then we'll just say… I dunno… We never went anywhere or did anything, and I cer~tainly didn't fuck you and you never called me 'Master' and I cer~tainly didn't enjoy it and it'll be fine. It'll be fine… Ahaha, maybe. Ihihihi…"

"I might have been able to formulate a somewhat plausible excuse for our absence if you hadn't proved to have such a strange fetish for the taste of human flesh, Battler~" said Ronove, laughing gently again.

"S-shuddup," Battler muttered, too tired to even bother about embarrassment.

Maybe biting people whilst having sex really wasn't all that normal after all, then, if Ronove-_ Ronove_, of all people, who was probably into all kinds of bizarre things and knew that Gaap _faked her orgasms_- was poking fun at him about it.

"I was beginning to worry that your seductions were really an elaborate ploy~ I thought you might be attempting to lower my guard so you could tear out my jugular and I'd bleed to death. Pu ku ku~"

"Now there's a good idea. Why didn't I think of that before?"

"Well, quite."

"I bet you weren't really thinking all of that when I was inside you," said Battler, bumping his forehead against Ronove's gently. "T-that's another lie…"

"Ah~ You're right," said Ronove- and though Battler's eyes were closed he could still hear the smile in Ronove's words. "For the most part, my brain was fully preoccupied with the wish my Master would fuck me harder- as I believe I told you~ I was _slightly _concerned for my wellbeing when I began to bleed, though. You used a lot of force."

"Mmm… I can't help being passionate about what I do. Y-you're… you're just getting old."

"Sadly, it's because you're _too_ passionate that I'm covered in bruises. How are we going to explain those away to Milady?"

Battler frowned.

He didn't want to think about Beatrice.

Mainly because thinking about Beatrice led his mind down several dark and disturbing alleyways, and at the end of each and every train of thought he saw himself being fed to Beato's pet goat-butler hybrid monstrosities for 'defiling her furniture!'

"Just… Just say you tripped."

In response, Ronove laughed.

"You're a terrible liar, Ushiromiya Battler."

"E-everyone… A-ah…" Battler's voice broke off, punctuated by a yawn- but he finished his sentence; he was determined to get one last insult in there before he feel asleep. "E-everyone's a terrible liar compared to you."

"And yet, despite knowing my critical character flaws, you still decided to sleep with me. I feel flattered."

"Y-yeah…" Battler couldn't help but smile. "I-I would say it was a terrible experience and I hated it, but…"

"But?"

"Apparently, I'm a terrible liar."

* * *

**a/n: **…

So yeah, the thing about the last chapter being the most ~risqué~ thing I've ever written.

-cough cough-

I'm still not comfortable writing scenes like this (when I got to the end I was like 'YAY! Dialogue again! I can do /this/' XDD) but I guess if you practise it gets better? Maybe?

Yeah, I wasn't going to write this, but the first few chapters of this fic don't have any Ronove/Battler interaction so I was all 'might as well try and put something extra in here to make up for it.' Plus, launching into the plot without wrapping this bit up seemed very weird- I don't think it would flow properly skipping forwards in time to a different set of characters so suddenly.

Oh, and this fic is nearly over. This makes me sad. So I was trying to drag it out a little longer, I guess XD

Aaa, as always, please tell me what you think, tell me if I can improve in any way, and I'll be very thankful ^_^``

**~renahhchen xoxoxo**


	10. In Cornelia's Case

**An Unfortunate Outcome  
**Chapter Ten

'In Cornelia's case'

* * *

Cornelia, a lowly little third class priest whose one outstanding talent was the ability to trip over her own feet, was not having a good day.

And that was perfectly normal.

Cornelia had so few 'good' days you could've counted them off on one hand. With one finger, even. It would've been far more surprising, therefore, if Cornelia's day _hadn't_ been a complete disaster- but it had been (or, at least, it was being), and that was fairly standard and normal; nothing out of the ordinary there.

As per usual Cornelia had woken up late- even though she swore she'd set her alarm clock at least _two hours_ early, she swore.

However, when she went to check her clock (er… if you counted shaking it, then throwing it against the wall for being so useless, thus putting a dent in said wall and prompting a shower of plaster to rain down on the newly-cleaned carpet as 'checking it') it had been completely devoid of batteries.

Which was just great, considering Cornelia knew she had put some batteries in the stupid thing before she went to bed- only they'd disappeared; vanished off into the ether, it seemed.

Along with her shoes.

And her hat.

And her hopes of having a half-way decent working day.

How so many things had gone so very wrong in such a short space of time was anybody's guess, really.

Maybe she had a perpetually unlucky horoscope.

Cornelia's day hadn't improved when she finally arrived to work, late and messy-haired and red-faced with one sock pulled up higher than the other and her hair ribbons coming undone.

At first, Cornelia assumed- naïvely, as she soon discovered- that her day would be about the same as usual. Awful, yes; but not so completely terrible it broke her spirit and almost drove her tears (because she was a proud member of Eiserne Jungfrau, and she swore by their name with valiant honor that she would never _cry_. Cornelia was serious about her job).

It hadn't been the first time in her life Cornelia's clock had been mysteriously emptied of batteries, anyway.

And Cornelia doubted it'd be the last.

And she could deal with that.

Cornelia knew, if she set her mind to it, she could deal with anything- witches or demons or strange self-battery-eeating clocks; none of them stood a chance against her! All would be pierced through by her red truth!

Cheered by this thought, Cornelia had gone about her daily business; writing reports, filing paperwork, checking for split-ends in her hair, writing more reports, getting distracted by the fish-tank in the corner of the main office Dlanor had brought in to improve their 'morale' (but the fish in the tank actually looked more depressingly bored than the various members of Eiserne Jungfrau sat in the office filing paperwork; it hardly made Cornelia feel any better. Sometimes, she wondered whether those fish were actually alive at all), and filing more paperwork.

That had been perfectly normal, too.

Dull (not that Cornelia allowed herself to think of her 'Incredibly Important Work' as 'dull'- that would be heresy!), but normal.

And then Cornelia had gone to get herself a cup of tea from the vending machine, and the first time the machine dispensed her tea but not the cup, and the second time it gave her coffee instead even though she clearly pressed the 'tea' button, and- finally- on the third attempt it gave her what she asked for, but the tea had been so hot she burnt her tongue and had to spit it back out before she scalded her herself…

Right in front of Gertrude, a first class priest who was supervising their division whilst Dlanor A. Knox was away on a 'business trip' (she was most likely fighting witches or demons in some super-secret mission, Cornelia fantasised).

And spitting her tea out in front of Gertrude had been embarrassing, but not drastically different from what generally happened during Cornelia's day.

However, when Cornelia went back to her own little office cubicle (it was separate from the main office with its dead fish), things started to go wrong.

Even more 'wrong' than usual.

Because, slowly but surely, one by one, all the neatly filed and ordered and ready-to-give-to-Gertrude reports stacked up on her desk began to disappear.

That... shouldn't have been happening...

Cornelia knew she was clumsy, but she wasn't clumsy enough to lose things she'd never even touched.

At least, she hoped she wasn't.

And that left her with only one conclusion...

Somebody else was taking her things.

Somebody was playing a prank on her.

'Pranks', of course, were far too childish and juvenile for _any _esteemed member of Eiserne Jungfrau to carry out! Just by wearing that uniform (ridiculous and a tad too revealing as it was), it made you confident, mature, strong; nobody would _**dare **_disgrace the name of heaven's offices by acting like a child!

The mere thought of it was enough to make Cornelia's blood boil!

The person playing tricks on her _must_ have been a demon.

It must have been.

It was a logical deduction.

Maybe Cornelia was being a bit idealistic there, and she really was quite young and didn't know that much about how the courts of heaven worked- but she was right. Her co-workers didn't all have the same scrupulous morals as she did, but they were all too scared/intimidated by Gertrude and Dlanor to do anything obviously cruel to anybody else; and why would they have stolen other people's paperwork when it only made more tedious jobs for themselves?

Cornelia had heard stories of a strangely dressed demon woman who plagued the offices of heaven from time to time- stealing things, disordering files and generally making a nuisance of herself.

According to a second class mage with a blonde side ponytail Cornelia had overheard by the water fountain once 'her _clothes _are even more of a mystery than her existence! Kyahaha! Geez- her fashion sense is just DREADFUL. And I thought _our _uniform was bad- but imagine dressing like a freak because you actually WANT to?'

Cornelia had not felt very emphatic with that second-class priest. Being disrespectful towards their uniforms (strange though they were) was almost blasphemy in Cornelia's eyes- but that blonde girl had possessed a _**very**_ scary smirk, and Cornelia hadn't known if she could reprimand those of a higher position than her.

She'd wanted to, though.

But no matter.

Cornelia was sure- absolutely sure- that the person stealing her paperwork was that strangely-dressed demon the side-ponytail girl had spoken about.

In fact, if Cornelia strained her ears...

She was sure she could hear a muffled laugh.

A woman's laugh.

Cornelia's eyes narrowed.

Her hand reached out for the rather dangerous, rather pointy letter opener that was lying on her desk.

Oh how Cornelia hated that letter opener; or anything that was sharp, really. Even typical things like staplers always caused her trouble. In essence: if something could potentially cause her harm, it would.

That was just what Cornelia's life was like; a serious of painful, embarrassing, unfortunate mistakes one after another after another.

But Cornelia was strong, and she could deal with that.

She kept her head high.

But that letter opener- the same blade that had cut her fingers so many times before as she carelessly handled it- was valuable weapon now.

Dlanor A. Knox might have used Knox's Decalogue and her unavoidable red spears to combat demons, but Cornelia- a third class priest- was going to use a letter opener!

And she was going to win, too.

She had to.

Eiserne Jungfrau did not balk nor back down from demonic threats!

Cornelia looked about her office cubicle slowly, her eyes roving past the desk, the filing cabinets, the scenic landscape picture on the wall that was supposed to 'brighten her morale', much like the tank of dead/dying fish...

But she couldn't see anybody.

By this point, Cornelia was beginning to pray nobody walked in. Gertrude had already seen her spit tea all over herself; Cornelia didn't want Gertrude to see her standing in her office, holding a knife and glaring at that scenic landscape portrait as though it had insulted her and she was going to stab it next.

...That probably wouldn't give Gertrude a very good impression of her.

What if Gertrude thought she'd snapped under the pressure and had gone completely insane?

But Cornelia wasn't insane, she was sure of it (she couldn't deny her inherent clumsiness quite so easily, uneasily).

She had... definitely heard something.

She knew she wasn't alone.

Just because she couldn't see the demon, it didn't mean it wasn't there.

Demons were tricky- but Cornelia would not allow herself to weaken.

She would not-

There!

Right there!

Cornelia heard a strange, off-key giggle somewhere to her right. It sounded sharp- too high-pitched, and it wavered slightly, tapering off at the end into a few smaller splutters.

She turned about, yellow hair ribbons catching in the breeze- and her eyes widened.

There was a slight distortion in the air.

The demon?

Cornelia's fingers released the letter opener before her brain had a chance to calculate the trajectory properly; and hadn't she forgotten she was a complete butterfingers and had always been picked last in netball back in school, and what if there wasn't actually a demon and she got a knife wedged in the wall?

What then?

All of those scenarios sounded likely.

And, on any normal day, that was probably what would've happened.

But Cornelia needed have worried.

Because, for the first time in her life-

"O-ow! H-hey, what gives?"

She'd hit her target with perfect precision.

Cornelia was so elated she could've done a celebratory dance.

Or faint.

Maybe both.

At the same time.

But, instead, she did neither.

Cornelia was a member of Eiserne Jungfrau and she had to remain professional.

But, even so, she couldn't resist playing the Final Fantasy victory theme in her head.

Just a couple of times.

She didn't get the chance to celebrate very often. She had to savor the moment.

* * *

"Y-you know, that was a **really **sucky greeting. I mean, reee~ally" said Gaap, the 33rd highest ranking demon in the underworld. "If I had to grade it, I'd give it a three out of ten- and that's on~nly 'cause I like your clothes. And you're kinda adorable. But a knife to the hand, staking me to the wall? Not cool!"

"L-let it be known that I cannot accept the advances of demons!"

"Awww~ And you look even cuter when you're blushing!~ Fufufufu~"

"L-let it be known that I-I'm... I'm not..."

"Why don't we start with a more formal introduction? That's far more polite than throwing knives, right?~" said the curly-haired demon, grinning. "I'm Gaap. I'm sort of amazing. How about you?"

"Let it be known that I don't have to reply to the demands of demons!" said Cornelia, backing away slightly (why was she backing away? 'Gaap' was the one pinned to the wall, not her…)

The final strains of the Final Fantasy victory theme had long since died from Cornelia's head.

She wasn't feeling quite so confident anymore.

"Aww~" Gaap frowned, faking hurt. "I-I feel so wounded! Here I was being all nice to you, and you push my advances aside! That cuts me deep! Ohmygod! It hurts even more to get rejected by somebody so cuuu~te!~"

Cornelia felt her face passing through twelve different shades of the color red (that was more red than you could see on a color chart at a paint store!)

Her face felt as though it was on fire.

…And Cornelia was sure that couldn't be healthy.

"L-let it be... I-it's not even... A-ahhh..."

Cornelia ducked her head, hiding behind her bangs. Even so, she could feel the heat radiating off her face.

To use a childish term, it just wasn't fair! Cornelia had caught the demon (that blonde-haired second-class priest with the side ponytail had been right; Gaap truly did have a _bizarre _fashion sense. In fact, 'bizarre' didn't even begin to cover it. 'Indecent', more like). The demon should have been cowering in fear before her; she was a member of Eiserne Jungfrau!

But Gaap didn't look bemused at all.

Instead, she was smirking.

Cornelia didn't like that smirk.

"L-look, you really shouldn't be so smug!" said Cornelia, glaring sourly at the stupid demon in the stupid outfit that refused to be afraid of her. "I've caught you."

"You did~ You did a very good job, too! I didn't think you'd be able to. I thought you were completely incompetent, you know. Fufufufu~"

Cornelia felt like she was being teased.

It was a rather unpleasant experience.

And it wasn't completely new to her, either.

Cornelia tried to push her rather unpleasant memories of being a clumsy child with a bad haircut who kept hiccupping all the time from her mind; now wasn't the time for reminiscing about the time that group of mean boys pushed her off the swing set! She wasn't the same weak, helpless child, and her haircut was a lot nicer now! That demon even said she was 'cute', for what it was worth.

Not that demons ever told the truth.

What did that demon have to smile about so widely when she was pinned against the wall with a letter opener through her hand? Gaap was even bleeding (Cornelia twitched slightly. She didn't much like the sight of blood).

Didn't that _hurt?_

Why didn't she look… just the least bit bothered?

Cornelia's eyes had filled with tears when she accidentally stapled her thumb the other day. She was sure- 100% positive- that she would've fainted if somebody had stabbed _her_ with a letter opener, whether fainting was the professional response or not.

"L-let it be known that I'm not incompetent," said Cornelia, trying (and, for the most part, succeeding) to keep herself from suttering.

"Oh re~eally?~" Gaap cooed, her voice sickly sweet and saccharine. She was drawing her syllable count past double digits, and some of her words were slightly slurred- and though it was difficult for Cornelia to tell, she seemed to be... slightly drunk?

"Really," Cornelia replied, nodding.

"Ah... Ahahahaha... I-I know you court of heaven official people like to think you're _so~oo_ amazing, but I've been watching you for a while Corneliaaa- you have such an adorable name! Kyahaha!- and it's kind of funny! I barely had to steal _**any**_ of your things to get you flustered- you make enough mistakes by yourself! You don't even need a demon to help you out! Gyahahaha!"

"L-let it be known that I caught you! S-so I haven't made too many mistakes here!" Cornelia retorted, trying to combat her blush with a good dose of self-righteous anger.

It was just a little irritating, though, that Cornelia couldn't counter any of those comments about her frequent 'mistakes' and carelessness.

It was true.

And Cornelia couldn't disagree with the truth...

B-but she was trying to get better...

She really was trying to improve at her job…

Gaap's insane grin faltered, just slightly.

"Aha... Yeahhh~" she said, turning to look at the letter opener that cut straight through the palm of her hand. "I got a little careless~ Ohohoho~ Maybe you're not that useless after all."

"I'm not..."

"And I can't even make any portals with my poor hand out of commission like this," Gaap continued. "Oh dear!~ I can't escape! I presume there's some kind of curse on this knife? It feels kinda sorta super-effective against demons~"

Was it?

Cornelia didn't know- she'd always assumed it was a simple letter opener.

W-what if it was actually some kind of sacred demon-hunting weapon, and she'd never even realised?

Urgh...

What a stupid mistake to make...

"Haha, yeah~" Miss. Princess Curls who didn't sound like a princess at all continued to talk (taunt, more like) in her strange, lilting voice. "_Definitely_ cursed~ I-it kind of hurts, you know?"

"That is the general idea."

"Kyahh! Oh woe! I can't escape!" cried Gaap melodramatically, throwing her head back. "What can I do? Oh no! Gyahahahahaa!"

Cornelia clenched her fists at her sides.

"L-let it be known that you are in no position to laugh," said Cornelia, taking a step forwards towards the pinned demon. "None at all. I am the one in the position of power here-"

"Ooh~ You want me to be the submissive one then? I didn't know you had it in you! I didn't know you were into that sort of thing, Corneliaaa! Gyahahaha!"

Cornelia's face went redder and redder, until she was sure she looked like an over-ripe tomato.

Were these the sorts of unruly people Dlanor had to deal with on a daily basis?

...Somehow, Cornelia got the feeling this demon wouldn't be nearly so rude or disrespectful if she'd been captured by Dlanor A. Knox instead of her.

And that thought was just a little insulting.

Sure, she may have been small and slight and not all that threatening- but neither was Dlanor! Why did everybody listen to her?

Why did nobody listen to Cornelia?

She _did_ try…

"Let it be known that you should take this seriously!" said Cornelia, her emotionless tone breaking down into something more desperate. "I-I... You're going to give me back what you stole a-and a-ah… ah…"

But Cornelia's voice soon broke away.

Because Gaap had kissed her.

That demon had...

_Was..._

Kissing her...

Cornelia's eyes widened in surprise.

And, when Gaap pulled away- she screamed.

It was a wonder she didn't faint.

* * *

"Oh wow~" said Gaap wonderingly, watching as Cornelia (Gaap only knew her name because she'd heard countless members of Eiserne Jungfrau going '_Cornelia_!' in this very exasperated way every time the hapless girl lost/dropped something, which seemed to be a fairly common occurrence) pulled away from her.

Gaap knew she was a good kisser...

But she didn't know she was _that_ good.

Ha!

Maybe she could boast about it to Ronove.

…Oh, but Riche was probably going to pissed off at her, wasn't she?

Well.

She'd just have to make a mental note of it and tell Ronove about her ~Amazing Sexual Exploits With Cute Girls Who Are Not Hot Guys But There Aren't Many Of Those Around Anyway So You've Gotta Try And Seduce Who You Can Amrite? Adventures!~ later, then.

Because Gaap suspected Riche would rip her head off her shoulders if she returned to the meta world now.

* * *

"Cornelia. What is the meaning of this?"

"S-she... I-I... A-allow me to speak!" Cornelia stammered through her words, tripping over her tongue, her face still flushed that _delightful _red (red really suited her, mused Gaap. Then again, red was a wonderful color! It suited everyone- apart from maybe people like Battler, who had that bright red hair… Hmn…)

"I am allowing it," Gertrude responded. Even though her voice was dull, mechanical, she sounded... just a tad tired.

Gaap didn't blame her.

Apparently Dlanor A. Knox (she was a_ creepy_ kid) had disappeared somewhere on short notice, leaving poor, overworked Gertrude in charge of Eiserne Jungfrau, in an office with a tank full of dead fish and that bitchy blonde-haired second class priest who kept complaining about everything.

And then Cornelia had started to scream like a banshee.

But it got worse.

When Gertrude went to see what could possibly be the matter with the third class priest she'd found Gaap, the 33rd ranked demon in hell, pinned to the wall with some cursed knife Cornelia had unwittingly been using as a letter opener.

That was probably _not _something Gertrude saw every day.

No wonder she looked so tired.

"S-she... S-she..." Cornelia continued to stammer.

Gaap was enjoying Cornelia's confusion immensely- but the continued use of the 'she' pronoun was beginning to annoy her.

"Hey!~" Gaap called, pouting slightly. "'She' has a name, y'know, you little pipsqueak! And it's a FABULOUS name, too, right? Why don't'cha use it? And I kinda like you, so you can call me Gaap~ You don't even need to call me Miss Gaap~"

But Cornelia wasn't listening.

She was beyond listening.

"S-she..."

Gaap sighed.

Some people were so stupid.

"Fine. I don't care. Do whatever you want! But I don't see why I should address YOU by _YOUR_ name when you won't offer _me_ the same courtesy!"

"S-she ki-ki-ki..."

"Maybe I should think of a new name for you~"

"S-she ki-ki-ki-kissed..."

"How about Pumpkin-Head? Pumpkin-Head's a nice name~"

"S-s-she kissed me!" Cornelia yelped, her face beet red-

Before she gave a startled gasp, a squeak, and clapped her hands over her mouth.

Gertrude looked between Cornelia and Gaap very, very slowly.

Then, she sighed.

"Let it be known that I am very disappointed in you, Miss Gaap."

"H-huh?" Cornelia's eyes widened, until they were in danger of falling out of her skull (that would've been sort of hilarious, mused Gaap- but then Cornelia wouldn't have looked so adorable with no eyes... Oh, what a dilemma!) "You know each other?"

"Oh yeah~" Gaap smirked. "Me'n Gertrude are, like, best friends!~"

"...Ignoring that obvious lie," said Gertrude smoothly, "Yes, Gaap and I do know one another. She's been plaguing our offices for quite some time- even though you said, when Miss Dlanor and I caught you trying to 'liberate' the goldfish from their tank a few months ago, that you _wouldn't interfere with us or our staff anymore."_

Even though Cornelia wasn't the one being admonished, she still felt a shiver run down her spine.

Gertrude... was really scary...

Her voice was practically made of **ice.**

Gaap, however, didn't seem to be too perturbed- even though she gave a small cry of 'ooh~ How creeeepy~'

Cornelia got the feeling Gaap had seen Gertrude's 'angry face' many times before.

In fact, Cornelia got the feeling Gaap pissed off almost everybody she came into contact with, in some way or another.

It was a wonder the curly-haired demon was still in one stupidly-attired piece.

"Ahhh~ I _do _remember saying something like that, now you've jogged my memory~" Gaap replied, smirking. "But I must've been mad when I did!~ Why would I agree to stop doing something I find so much fun?"

"Because if you don't leave us alone we'll hurt you."

"A-ah yes..."

Gaap laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of her head with her free hand (it was amazing how those curls managed to stay in place, despite the disturbance. Were they indestructible? How much hair gel did she have to use? What about sleeping- how did you sleep with hair like that...? Did she have special pillows?

And thus, Cornelia's mind wandered.

That was probably why she was such a klutz).

"Y-yeah, I kinda don't wanna be hurt," Gaap said. "Maybe you can just, I dunno, let me go, and we'll call it a draw?"

"No." Gertrude's voice was frozen.

"Awwwww~ But you wouldn't wanna bother Dlanor about this right? Ri~ight?" asked Gaap, her voice childish- wheedling.

"Let it be known that we are not going to see Miss Dlanor."

"Then who...?"

"We're going to see Miss Virgilia."

At that moment, something truly amazing happened.

The effect those words had on Gaap were instantaneous.

All the color drained from her face.

And she went white.

"Well… shit."

"Indeed."

* * *

Dlanor and Virgilia had been enjoying a rather pleasant, extended teatime, sat under the rose-strewn arbour discussing this and that as the world turned slowly around them.

It had been soothing.

Tranquil.

Peaceful.

'Had' being the keyword.

"Ohmygosh ohmygosh like ohemgee Lia don't hate me Liaaaa!"

There was a loud crash and a rather high-pitched scream as Gaap, the 33rd ranked demon in hell, and the 1st on Virgilia's 'people who annoy me the most' list, latched her arms round Virgilia's head in a rather violent 'hug'.

It was a wonder Virgilia wasn't thrown backwards off her chair.

Her hat was, however, knocked straight off her head- and her face was forced into Gaap's rather ample (and rather on show, considering the fashionista demon's love for illogical clothes that hid _nothing_) bosom.

The cup of marshmallow tea that had been held between Virgilia's fingertips fell to the floor, shattering upon impact.

Scalding tea went everywhere.

And, seconds later, so did Gaap- as Virgilia pushed the curly-haired demon away from her with almost inhuman strength.

"W-what's going on?" Virgilia asked, alarmed. Her hands went for her head- only to find her hat was missing. Somehow, that caused her more panic than having her face pressed up close and personal against Gaap's greatest assets had done. "W-where's my-"

"Let it be known that I have it in my possession," said Gertrude, her voice dull and emotionless as always.

"Gertrude... What brings you HERE?" asked Dlanor, peering over the top of her teacup at her second in command.

"Allow me to speak. There were some complications with a rather unruly demon," said Gertrude. She sounded exhausted. There were even bags under her eyes.

With a small sigh that seemed out of character for her, Gertrude sat down on a chair- a chair Virgilia only just managed to create out of thin air and golden butterflies on time.

"...Thank you," said Gertrude, after a small pause. "Here is your hat, Miss Virgilia."

"Thank you in return," Virgilia replied cordially, bowing her head. She took the hat from Gertrude's hands, and then placed it back on her head.

There.

She felt much better.

Without her hat, Virgilia felt like there was something missing from her; something was incomplete. She might as well have been missing one of her arms or legs, or even part of her soul.

But, with the comforting weight of her hat back upon her head, Virgilia was more than capable of giving Gaap a good scolding.

Virgilia turned her head slowly.

Her eyes weren't half-lidded anymore. Instead, they were wide and alert.

Gaap swallowed nervously.

Virgilia's eyes should NEVER, under any circumstances, open fully.

When they did, bad things happened.

Like _apocalyptic_ bad.

Gaap began to play with the hem of her indecently short skirt (not because she wanted to expose her underwear to Virgilia, Dlanor, Gertrude and the silent, shivering Cornelia, but because she had to keep her fingers occupied somehow or they'd start scratching at her throat in an attempt to commit suicide before Virgilia murdered her).

Gaap began to back away.

She moved very, very slowly.

"Aheheh... H-hey, Lia. N-no hard feelings, huh? Hahaha... I-I totally didn't mean to mess up your tea party, so if you just pretend I was never here I can-"

"GAAP."

"O-oh dear..."

"You have a _**lot **_of explaining to do."

* * *

**a/n: **This chapter cuts to a bunch of other characters that don't seem relevant to the plot XD (Or whatever 'plot' this thing has) B-but they are relevant, I swear!

But I'll get back to Ronove and Battler by the end of the next chapter, so no worries :D

This chapter was insanely fun to write, yanno.  
So many characters...  
I love things with lots of characters :D

And generally I just really love Cornelia XDD

I am totally going to add Gaap/Cornelia to the summary of this fic just so it looks even more wtf to people who haven't read it yet XDD  
It's a Battler/Ronove fic with a very light side helping of Gaap/Cornelia- what's weird about that? ~whistles innocently~

**edit:**  
**_26/10/2011_**- just reread this chapter, caught a few spelling errors and fiddled around with the word order in one or two places :3

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	11. The love of a purehearted maiden

**An Unfortunate Outcome  
**Chapter Eleven

'The love of a pure-hearted maiden is a fragile thing'

* * *

"So. Gaap." Virgilia's tone was reasonably pleasant.

'_Reasonably_'.

On first glance.

However, if you'd known Virgilia at all (and Gaap did know her ve~ry well. She even knew all her measurements), it would have been immediately obvious her polite words masked something far more sinister. Beyond that sleepy smile and those half-lidded eyes, there was a faint, barely-there, but still there undercurrent of pure, unadulterated _rage_.

An angry Virgilia truly was something to behold; another wonder of the world. The mere phrase 'angry Virgilia' seemed to be a contradiction in itself- and the warring expressions of courtesy and 'I'll-rip-your-face-off-with-my-teeth' was_ incredibly _disturbing.

That was what Gaap called Virgilia's 'Feburary voice'; deceptively bright and sunny at first, but biting cold when you actually stepped outside.

Honestly, her tone was so frosty it was a wonder Gaap didn't catch hypothermia. Gaap wore such impractical outfits she was _especially_ susceptible to the cold!

"A-ahaha... ha... ha... ..." Gaap laughed nervously, backing away.

She didn't like Virgilia's voice.

She liked the look on her face even less.

"Would you care to tell me why, exactly, you've taken to sexually harassing young girls? Or is this just some strange new hobby for you, hmn?~" Virgilia asked.

Her tone was still deceitfully pleasant.

But those words _stung._

Even more so than a blow from Dlanor A. Knox's red sword would've done.

"H-hey, Lia! T-that really hurt!" Gaap retorted, miming pain as she held her hands to her chest. "Why do you have such a low opinion of me...?"

At that moment Cornelia's face began to flush bright red.

"Oh? Why do I have such a low opinion of you?" asked Virgilia, voice thick with sarcasm (Virgilia was rarely sarcastic- and for good reason. Because it was really fucking _creepy _and totally screwed up her 'cool, calm, collected teacher' demeanor). She pressed a fingertip against her lower lip, as though in deep thought. "Hmn, that's tricky... I wonder..."

Cornelia gave another squeak. She sounded kind of like a mouse. With a cold.

...That was so many kinds of adorable Gaap sort of wanted to smush Cornelia's cheeks together.

Or smash her face in.

Any girl as delicate-looking and sweet as Cornelia was just bound to pick up guys- and Gaap couldn't allow that! She didn't want any competition. But the world would be a much darker place if adorable girls like Cornelia didn't exist...

Oh, what a dilemna.

"...Okay," said Gaap, holding her hands up. "The timing of that pipsqueak's blush was, like, _way_ too perfect! I think Pumpkin Head's trying to make me look like a bad guy!"

"...Pumpkin Head?" asked Virgilia.

"Yeah. I gave her a nickname 'cause she wouldn't use _my _name," said Gaap, shrugging.

"But... Pumpkin Head? That doesn't fit your usual style."

"Well, I _can't _call Cornelia 'Lia' cause _you're _'Lia'," Gaap explained, gesturing towards Virgilia (who scowled, and muttered something like 'so disrespectful...' under her breath). "So I thought I should break with tradition and make up a new, more **AMAZING** name! And so..." Gaap spread her arms wide. "Pumpkin Head! You follow my logic?"

"I did not realize you acted with LOGIC."

"Hey hey hey, be quiet, you," Gaap shushed, prodding Dlanor in the forehead. "This doesn't involve you."

"I'm afraid you'll find it DOES."

"Oh~ Howww?"

"You sexually assaulted one of my WORKERS."

"E-eep!" Cornelia gave another mouse-with-a-cold squeak. She hung her head just a little lower, until it nearly crashed against the table.

...Nah.

Gaap couldn't kill a girl like that. It'd be kind of like kicking a puppy. And nobody liked doing that.

"You know!" Gaap exclaimed, throwing her arms akimbo and every nearly embedding her hand in a nearby rose bush, "I hate that phrase! Stop saying 'sexual assault'!"

"E-eep-"

"Oh shut up, Pumpkin Head. It totally wasn't_** that**_ bad, okay?"

"Let it be known that Miss Cornelia is rather sensitive about some things," said Gertrude. Even though her voice was monotone, robotic, as always, Gaap could detect some definite sympathy in there.

Gaap smirked.

_Awwww._

Despite Gertrude's cold, ice-princess exterior (as was shared by most of those aloof Eiserne Jungfrau bitches, apart from Dlanor who was just kind of quirky with her funny cat-like smiles, and Cornelia, who was completely helpless), she _did _care about her workers, then.

That was kind of refreshing.

"Well, I'm soh~_ree_ if I destroyed her childhood innocence or her dreams of a perfect first kiss or anything, but really!" Gaap rolled her eyes. "The kid's gotta grow up one day!"

Cornelia made a strange hissing sound, like air being let out of a balloon. Then, she lifted her head so suddenly those yellow ribbons bounced (the sight was almost transfixing... Ooh... How much fun...)

"A-allow me to speak! T-that's not it at all!" Cornelia retorted, her face stained crimson. "I-it wasn't... I... Don't presume things like that, you... demon!"

"I'm sorry, but I have wa~aaay more worldly experience than you," Gaap retorted, folding her arms. "And to be honest, romance kind of sucks. If you didn't get your first kiss from me- and that's not even so bad, cause I'm really sexy, right? Fufufu- then it would've been from, I dunno, some guy you'll _cringe_ about and wonder 'what the fuck was I thinking?' when you look back on it later. But _nobody_ can cringe when they think about Gaap because I'm just so wonderful with the best fashion sense ever! So I sort of saved you a lifetime of embarrassment. Don't you wanna thank big sis Gaap? Fufufufufufu~"

"T-that's not true!"

"Hahaha~ You're such a maiden, Pumpkin Head!"

"N-no I'm not!"

"Once upon a time I, too-" Gaap declared dramatically, placing one hand to her chest and the other against her forehead. Oh yeah- Zepar and Furfur had nothing on her. "-had naïve, innocent, childish fantasies on love!"

"You were never innocent or naïve," Virgilia replied, voice deadpan.

"Yes!" Gaap continued- in effect, completely ignoring Virgilia (what did Lia know anyway? She was just a boring old woman who wouldn't have known 'fashion' if it plucked her hat from her head and put it in a paper shredder). "I- Gaap, the 33rd demon of hell, and the most good-looking one too- was a wide-eyed, adorable, innocent and rather cute little girl, believing strange fantasies about princesses and princes and the perfect first kiss! Ahahaha..."

Gaap smirked, tilting her head to one side.

"And then I realized it was all a delusion! A lie! And true love doesn't exist!~ The end!"

Cornelia's lower lip began to tremble at this. She looked a little bit like a young child who'd just been told Santa didn't exist.

"T-that's not true..." Cornelia said, her voice soft- tentative. She turned to look at Gertrude. "T-that's not true, is it...?"

Gertrude frowned. She looked up at the sky, as though searching for the truth amongst the fluffy white clouds.

Then, she sighed.

Cornelia... didn't like that sigh...

"Far be it from me to agree with demons, but I do believe Miss Gaap has hit the nail on the head with her analysis there."

"A-ahh? N-not you too, Miss Gertrude?"

"I'm speaking from my own personal experiences, of course."

What?

Cornelia's eyes widened at this. How could any man _not_ adore Miss Gertrude? She was so cool and kind and friendly, and Cornelia had always looked up to her! And, if Miss Gertrude couldn't have that perfect fairytale romance Cornelia always dreamed about (maybe it was a bit naïve, but a girl could daydream, couldn't she? She could fantasize and imagine and hope that someday, maybe, she'd meet a guy who'd give her world), then what were **her**- clumsy, incompetent, always blushing and stuttering Cornelia- chances at finding her 'true love'?

It didn't seem very likely.

It didn't seem very likely at all.

And the mere thought that _Gaap _was the best she could do when it came to romance was almost enough to make Cornelia cry.

Tears began to bead in the corners of her eyes.

It just... wasn't... fair...

It wasn't fair... at all...

"U-uwah..."

Then, with a small sob, Cornelia buried her head in her hands and fell against the table.

In just a few seconds all of her childhood dreams had been crushed.

And Gertrude had_ helped._

That hurt.

S-she was never going to get married now...

Dlanor looked at the fallen form of Cornelia with mild interest, still sipping her tea as though nothing untoward had happened at all. In fact, throughout the duration of Gaap's impromptu 'chat' with Virgilia (more like, her impromptu _scolding_ by Virgilia), Dlanor had been sipping at her tea and gently nibbling on cookies as though nothing had changed. Occasionally, her dead eyes had caught on various flittering butterflies, and had followed them around until she grew bored- and then she'd resumed her slow, robotic actions of sipping tea and nibbling cookies.

Dlanor A. Knox saw any number of strange things on a daily basis. Gaap didn't even qualify as 'interesting' anymore (even though Gaap would've been devastated to hear that, and probably would've gone out of her way to do something even more outrageous just to disprove Dlanor's point).

Now Dlanor said, voice monotone as always; "I think you may have upset Miss CORNELIA."

"L-let it be known that I was speaking objectively," said Gertrude, trying to adapt a somewhat 'soothing' voice (i.e. her voice sounded about one percent less robotic and detached than usual). "It wasn't my intention to trample your dreams."

But Cornelia didn't lift her head.

"Aww, c'mon, Pumpkin Head," said Gaap, reaching forwards to ruffle Cornelia's hair. "Don't get so upset! I'm sure loads of guys would be_ sooooo _jealous of you, getting a free kiss from the Amazingly Sexy Gaap!"

"My, my. Who are these hordes of imaginary men, I wonder?" asked Virgilia.

"O-ow! That's not a ladylike thing to say!"

"Manners operate in a two-way system," said Virgilia firmly. "I am _not_ going to be polite to somebody who doesn't deserve it. And you are anything but ladylike, Gaap."

"Oh, c'mon, Lia!" Gaap pouted, prodding Virgilia in the cheek (Virgilia pushed her away). "I've got boobs too! They're even bigger than your's! How am I not a lady? I think that makes me a few cup sizes_ more_ ladylike than youuu!~"

Virgilia girt her teeth together.

The fact that she was able to look both tranquil and enraged at the same time really was quite amazing.

"Must you be so crude?"

"Yeup!~ It's part of my charm! Tehehe!~" Gaap giggling, striking a 'cute' pose.

"And is sexually harassing young girls and then crushing their romantic dreams 'charming'?"

"I dunno, I can't say for sure what turns ~other people~ on," said Gaap, voice sing-song. "And I thought we said we weren't going to use that phrase? I don't 'sexually harass' people- I make them realize the cold, hard truth behind their childish dreams! 'Sexual harassment' just sounds so... Ew..." Gaap wrinkled up her nose. "Not nice."

"You aren't a very nice person."

"It wasn't even LIKE that, okay? Geesh! How many times've I gotta tell you?" Gaap bemoaned to the heavens, slumping down in her own chair besides Virgilia. "I don't even, like, _**LIKE**_ Pumpkin Head or anything! She's adorable, but she's not a hot guy- not at all!"

"...I'm not sure whether that makes it worse or better," said Virgilia.

"It was all her OUTFIT, okay? I appreciate nice clothes!~ Fufufu~ And I've admired those Eiserne Jungfrau uniforms for some time..." Gaap's eyes began to light up as she spoke, until they were almost as bright as the Andromeda Galaxy. "I-I mean, they're just amazing! A real work of art! Artistry in cloth, even! They have so many ruffles and bows and fine details, it's just... so... hot... I-I've wanted one of those outfits for a really long time... A-and I can't help being totally enraptured by any person wearing those clothes now, can I? So sue me for my ARTISTIC EYE!~"

"...That's one way of putting it."

"Yes! You're just not looking at this situation with enough _love_, Lia! Without love it cannot be seen and blah blah blah so and so forth," said Gaap, circling one of her fingers in mid-air as she made a point. "I mean, she was totally asking for it anyway. Pumpkin Head to~tally thought she'd totally one-upped me or something back there- I could tell! She was thinking 'oh gee, the wonderful sexy Miss Gaap couldn't possibly steal anything else from me now I've caught her!"

"I-I wasn't thinking that at all..." Cornelia muttered into the table-top,

"Hush now, let the adults finish talking," said Gaap, waving a finger at the red-faced Cornelia. "Fufufufu~ You thought you had me cornered ri~ight, Pumpkin Head?"

Cornelia didn't reply.

"Right!~" Gaap continued merrily, completely ignoring how uncomfortable she was making poor Cornelia. "She thought she'd beaten me! But NOBODY can defeat me! I won't allow it! Fufufufu~ I still managed to steal something! I stole her first kiss!"

"...You sound so proud of yourself it's despicable," said Virgilia, voice cutting.

In response Gaap flashed Virgilia a rather crooked smile/smirk, and buffed her nails against the front of her shirt.

"Why, thank you, Lia~ I do hafta practise my general despicable-ness, being a demon and all. But seriously- if Pumpkin Head was a girl in a dating sim (and she totally could be!) I'd have raised all sorts of flags by now!"

"...Flags? What are you talking about?" Virgilia asked.

But her question was soon drowned out by Cornelia.

"D-don't compare me to a dating sim!"

It was a wonder she managed to reply at all, considering her head was still buried in her hands.

Maybe Pumpkin Head had more of a backbone than Gaap once thought...

"Eh?~ But the comparison's totally valid. You're such a stereotype, Pumpkin Head. A stereotype in an adorable outfit I mean aaa I can't even describe it! You wouldn't understand!~ Gyahahaha!~"

"...I don't want to hear anything else about your strange fetishes," said Virgilia, voice dry. Her tone clearly indicated 'this is the end of the discussion'.

For everybody but Gaap, it seemed.

"Hey, c'mon, Lia! Can't you see how I feel? You see I really had no option but to kiss her given how sexy those clothes are, right?"

"No. I'm afraid I don't follow your reasoning at all."

"Then you're boring!~ Nyahhh! Lia's so old and bo~oring!"

Virgilia's left eye twitched.

"Yes!" Gaap continued, clutching her hands to her chest in that overly-theatrical manner once more. "I, Gaap, have a passion for amazing outfits! They're my one true love! My reason for being alive! Haven't you ever loved something so completely you could devote your whole life to it, Lia? Haven't you? Trying putting yourself in my shoes! Don't be a dry, loveless old spinster your whole life!"

"But your clothes don't look very PRACTICAL. I can't imagine they would be comfortable to WEAR."

"Well, of course you couldn't pull this off," said Gaap, putting her hands behind her back and pushing her chest out at the same time. "You're not blessed with a really sexy body!~"

"I am still a KID."

"Of course! And practicality doesn't matter in the face of _love_!"

"P-please allow me to speak!" said Cornelia, pushing herself up from the table with some difficulty. Her hair was a disordered mess, one of her ribbons had come unraveled, and her face was stained the very fetching color of strawberry jam- but all of that contributed to Cornelia's overall 'clumsy, forgetful' vibe, so Gaap would allow it.

It was kind of endearing.

"What do you want, Pumpkin Head?"

"Let it be known that my name is _**Cornelia**_," said Cornelia, stressing her name in much the same way Dlanor spoke. "And weren't you the one, Miss Gaap, who claimed love was a pointless pursuit?"

"Yeaaa so?"

"You're talking about love in a very passionate manner now," said Cornelia- and though she was flushing, she smiled.

She obviously thought she'd proven a point.

When the various members of Eiserne Jungfrau (especially the younger ones) engaged in arguments with demons, they always got this really elated look about them every time they gained a victory- no matter how small it was.

It was almost as if they could die happily because they'd complete their mission in life; to defeat demons.

(Of course, then they moved up the ranks and became second or first class priests, and every last drop of emotion was drained out of their bodies until they were all bland and boring and no fun for Gaap to play with because they never responded to her teasing.

Sure, their outfits were still adorable, but coating cardboard in sugar didn't make a delicious treat- and cute girls in cute outfits were always much more adorable when they had cute personalities too!)

Cornelia's face was...

So sweet!

That face, coupled with her outfit, was just criminal! Aaaa!

Inner-Gaap was squealing at the overload of adorableness emitting from Cornelia.

In fact, it was getting a little difficult to resist the urge to pull the shorter girl into a hug.

Gaap almost didn't want to shoot Cornelia's reasoning to pieces-

But, in the end, she _was _a demon.

Gaap smirked.

"Yeah. I wax romantic on clothes. Not people. Clothes can't say they love you and then sexually disappoint you like people can!~ Gyahahaha! Here's a pro tip, little Pumpkin Head- when guys talk about how awesome they are, they're usually lying. Or over-compensating. Remember that, kay?"

Cornelia's eyes... widened...

That self-sure, confident smile began to slip.

Her face went bright red.

Then, she buried her head in her arms again.

She really was such a little kid, it was sort of hilarious.

"_Gaap._"

...Urgh.

Gaap had almost forgotten about Virgilia.

"Y-yeah, Lia?~ Aheheh..."

"I think we need to do discuss this calmly with Beatrice, like adults. Maybe over some tea- with some of Ronove's cookies. It will be fairly civilized; a chat between friends. And maybe then you will grow to understand what a detestable creature you are. Doesn't that sound lovely? What do you say?"

The tranquil smile on Virgilia's face was frosty enough to turn water into ice.

Gaap shuddered.

The woman sat before her in that stupid hat was the _real _demon, her peaceful smile and sleepy eyes be damned. It was just a ruse! Underneath that calm, sophisticated exterior beat the heart of a ruthless, sadistic maniac!

S-so scary...

Gaap wondered if she should run away- but she felt sure Virgilia would follow her and strike her down.

So, she had two choices open to her.

1) Get decapitated by Beatrice.  
2) Get disemboweled by Virgilia.

Huh...

Neither sounded very attractive- and blood was such a pain to get out of her clothes.

"This... really sucks."

"Haha~" Virgilia laughed serenely. "Silly Gaap. You really do bring this upon yourself."

* * *

"Cornelia, are you ALRIGHT?"

"..."

"Miss Gaap is gone, you KNOW."

"..."

"Are you unable to RESPOND?"

"..."

Dlanor's lips twitched in a slight frown. Like all of Dlanor's expressions, that frown was so small it was almost non-existent- but Gertrude still saw it.

"Gertrude. I think Miss Cornelia is BROKEN."

Dlanor prodded Cornelia in the cheek experimentally, almost tentatively, as though she were an unexploded bomb.

There was a short pause.

And then Cornelia's head fell against the table with sickening crack.

"...Oh DEAR."

* * *

If Cornelia, the lowly little third class priest whose romantic fantasies had been shattered like a stained glass window in under two minutes, had been having a terrible day, Beatrice, the inappropriately dressed Golden Witch, was having a worse one.

And _that_ really was something to boast about (not that she wanted to).

Beatrice had shouted at Beelzebub and Satan for almost half an hour about how disrespectful they were, being so noisy and childish and "why are you complaining about her stealing your dress when no guy would ever go out with _you _anyway?", and now Beatrice's throat was sore and her mouth felt dry and she didn't even have enough energy to ask Ronove for a drink.

So, instead of doing anything remotely productive to alleviate her bad mood, Beatrice sat in her bedroom and sulked.

Like a child.

...Yeah.

That'd show those noisy stakes not to fuck around with her in the future.

Beatrice scowled. Unfortunately, there was nobody there to witness it, so it was a wasted effort.

Then, she began to tug at the hem of that stupid, stupid 'dress' (that didn't even deserve to be given such a title, when she was in a state of near 'undress' anyway), willing it to cover more flesh.

The dress didn't.

And Beatrice didn't like it when things- people, goat butlers, inanimate objects, whatever- didn't listen to her.

It made her angry.

And when Beatrice got angry she broke people's spines or murdered Battler's family or bossed about those useless stakes or, or, or...

Or continued to sulk even more.

Because that plan of action was already working _so _well at improving her mood.

"...Blehhhh."

The Almighty and All-Powerful Golden Witch gave a childish noise of contempt as she collapsed onto her bed, grabbing hold of her favorite pillow and pressing her face into it. Her blonde hair was a ratted mess, straggling round her shoulders as though it'd never seen a comb in its life- but Beatrice didn't really care.

That was just another thing to be annoyed about.

She could add it to her already extensive list.

There was enough room.

Where on the list would it go, exactly?

Maybe somewhere between Ronove's hair (how it always managed to stay so shiny was a complete mystery to Beatrice. Her butler's hair shouldn't have been prettier than _hers!_ Wasn't that, like, treason?)-

"Hello, Beatrice."

"Gah!"

-and uninvited, out-of-the-blue, bolt-out-of-golden-butterflies visits from various demons/witches who'd obviously never heard of doors.

Beatrice's eyes widened to almost comic proportions, and she very nearly rolled off her bed in alarm as a sudden burst of golden butterflies appeared beside her bed. Even though that was the preferred method of transportation in the meta world, it still managed to take her by surprise; especially when she was feeling melancholy and jaded and not at all like her usual self.

Why didn't people use their legs?

Beatrice hastily pulled herself into a sitting position (lying down whilst wearing that 'dress' wasn't a good idea... Then again, doing absolutely _anything_ whilst wearing that 'dress' could've been counted as the 'worst idea since the Titanic'- or, alternatively, the 'worst idea since Beelzebub thought she was semi-competent in the kitchen and could make her own tea'- so it didn't really matter what she did in that 'dress' anyway). Then, the very disgruntled and slightly embarrassed Beatrice tried to brush her hair into something vaguely resembling a style (i.e. she raked her fingernails through it and nearly made her scalp bleed... ow...

Okay, that was _also_ a rather bad idea).

Beatrice huffed, exhaling air- watching, with disinterest, as it made her straight-across bangs that weren't so straight-across anymore flutter in the breeze.

Then, she glared.

Glared at the two people in her room.

One was Virgilia.

"Ah~ That outfit you're wearing is rather... interesting..." said Virgilia. Her face then went through a rather interesting array of emotions, before settling on 'perplexed, sympathetic irritation.'

Virgilia turned to look at the curly-haired demon beside her.

"Would you happen to know anything about this?"

The other person in Beatrice's room- who looked rather shame-faced and fearful for her own life, though she was trying to disguise it with a wide smirk that went slightly wobbly at the edges- was Gaap.

Of _course._

Gaap began to laugh nervously, running her hands through her indestructible, unchanging blonde princess curls.

"W-who, me? Why would I know anything about this? W-why do you assume, whenever something goes wrong, that it's _my _fault?"

"Because it usually is."

"T-that's mean, Lia!"

"The truth hurts."

Beatrice paused, her gradually narrowing eyes flickering between Virgilia and Gaap, Gaap and Virgilia, over and over again.

She deliberated.

Weighed up her options.

Considered how best to settle their dispute in a mature, adult manner.

...And then Beatrice looked down at what she was wearing, and decided Gaap needed to die.

Painfully.

"The truth may hurt, dear **big sister**," said Beatrice, injecting so much venom into the words it was a wonder she didn't burn a hole through her tongue. "But this will hurt a lot, lot more."

Gaap's face went pasty white.

"H-hey, Riche! C-can't we talk this over? P-please don't hurt me! Violence doesn't solve anything!"

"No~ But it'll make me feel a lot better. Ihihihi..."

"R-riche! W-what's an embarrassing outfit between sisters? You love me, right? R-right? D-don't maim me..."

"Why shouldn't I?" asked Beatrice, folding her arms. "You have five seconds."

Gaap scrunched her face up in concentration as she thought. This was important... her life could depend upon this! She needed a good answer!

And then her face brightened up.

She smile.

"I know, I know!~ If you hurt me, think of all those hot guys you'll disappoint who are totally in love with me!"

Beatrice bared her teeth and snarled- literally _snarled._

And then she promptly tried to grind Gaap's face into her bedroom mirror.

* * *

Meanwhile, Virgilia really had to wonder who, exactly, where these phantom guys that were 'so in love' with Gaap.

It was a mystery indeed.

Virgilia couldn't fathom why anybody would_ ever_ like that annoying, curly-haired, poorly-dressed, disturbed-in-the-head weirdo. Was there a market for such a thing?

...Even if there was, there wouldn't be after Beatrice was finished turning Gaap's face into tuna mayonnaise.

Huh.

That was sort of unpleasant and disgusting, but it wasn't like Gaap didn't deserve it, so Virgilia didn't try to intervene.

Maybe she'd go and talk to Ronove for a while. He was a rather sensible person, and probably didn't make a habit of molesting young girls and then excusing it with some self-righteous rambling about having an 'artistic eye'.

Yes.

That sounded like a good idea.

Just until Beatrice calmed down.

What was the worst that could happen?

* * *

Looking back on the situation in retrospect, it had probably been a bad idea to fall asleep with his arms wrapped round Ronove's middle, their legs tangled together and his head resting against his chest.

Then again, even without the knowledge of hindsight, Battler should've known better.

He _**had**_ known better.

Ushiromiya Battler had been perfectly aware, in fact, that it was a disastrous move; kind of like putting yourself into checkmate in only two turns.

Hell- having sex ('making love' was a really horrible phrase Battler didn't much want to use to describe the situation, because it sort of made him feel like a pure-hearted, easily-flushed girl with a naïve perception of life and love) with Ronove had been a 'Very Bad Move' in itself.

It was an even worse idea than that time Beelzebub tried to make tea for herself, and somehow managed to decimate half the kitchen (that girl had a talent for destroying things. It wasn't a useful talent, or a particularly endearing one, but it definitely was a talent, and one to be reckoned with. Beelzebub was almost as proficient at annihilating everything she came into contact with as Jessica was at playing the guitar, or Beato was at being a sour-faced, unlikable bitch).

But Battler really hadn't been able to bring himself to care.

In a moment of madness (that he was going to blame whatever 'mystery drug X' Beelzebub gave him, just so he could spare his sanity)- or maybe it was just a moment of childishness- Battler had wanted to control somebody.

To dominate them, as he had been dominated again and again by Beatrice and her entourage of strange and disturbing followers.

And he'd succeeded- somewhat successfully.

He'd made Ronove shiver and moan- and even _blush_- and even if some of it was an act Battler had still won.

He had.

But, after his 'victory'...

He just... hadn't wanted to move...

Battler would never have imagined he'd have _ever_, at any point throughout the entirety of his life- fucked up though it was- slept with a demon butler with an annoying laugh, a tendency to get far too close and a mustache (it'd been pretty hard closing his eyes and imaging Ronove was a girl because of that- but, then again, he hadn't really wanted to imagine Ronove was somebody else anyway; which was even more worrying.

Battler doubted it would've been anywhere near as satisfying making an archetypal 'moe' girl blush as it been with Ronove. It was kind of like what Beatrice said- 'I like people with a backbone that try to stand up to me! It's more fun to see them give up and glorify my name! Gyahahaha' cue eight minutes of insane laughter.

...Urgh.

And now Battler was turning into a sadistic ((not to mention cannibalistic)) control freak, too.

Yippee).

But Battler's pre-conceptions about his life hadn't mattered- not in the end.

Because he _had_ slept with Ronove.

It was kind of hard to disprove _that._

And it hadn't... even... been that bad...

Not really.

Not at all- in all honesty.

So Battler had pulled Ronove closer, rested his head against his chest, and fallen asleep; all the while trying to convince himself that his strange mix of feelings was because of some 'mystery drug'.

"B-battler? R-ronove...? I-I... A-ah... W-what...?"

Looking back on it in retrospect, Battler really should have known this was a _really_ bad idea.

It looked just a little bit like Virgilia was going to faint.

* * *

**a/n: **I think the next chapter will be the last one, plus an epilogue... I'm kind of disappoint about that, 'cause I love this story, weird and crack-ish though it is XD~  
I wish my favorite things to write were more mainstream so more people would read them XD Sometimes I feel like I'm wasting my time here XD  
But I'm having fun, so I guess it doesn't matter.  
Nyoron~

Gaap/Cornelia = new OTP maybe? XDD

I hope everybody is still vaguely IC because I'm beginning to get the feeling I'm flanderizing their personalities a little (especially Beato's and Gaap's... and Virgilia's... Cornelia's I don't mind so much cause I know she's vaguely OOC anyway but her character gets explored so little in the vn it doesn't really matter too much? I know she was meant to be a hard-working girl ((and Gertrude was actually meant to be very caring)) but I thought I'd contrast that hard-working-ness with general klutziness too just so she feels an urge to try even harder~) for the sake of humor, which isn't a good thing ._.

**~renahhchen xoxoxo**


	12. And in my dreams I cut your mouth

**An Unfortunate Outcome****  
**Chapter Twelve

'And in my dreams I cut your mouth...'

* * *

"Wow, that looks pretty painful~" said Gaap, prodding the bruise on Ronove's neck gently. "I didn't know Battler was into that kind of stuff."

"Neither did I, I assure you," Ronove replied. Even though he kept his voice light, Battler couldn't help but notice he winced slightly as Gaap's intrusive fingers kept pressing against those ugly bruises.

Somehow, they looked even worse than before (not that they'd looked wonderful to begin with). The various splotches of deep, purplish-black, interspaced with still-visible teeth marks, stood out with a stark, almost alarming, contrast against the rest of Ronove's pale skin.

They... didn't really look all that healthy.

Not at all.

In fact, it made Battler think of moldy bread.

And wasn't _that_ just the most sexy imagery_ ever_?

"Hoh~" said Gaap, finally drawing her fingers away. She smirked. "Maybe that kid's more passionate than I thought~ Ooh, that's kind of hot~ Kukuku~"

Battler's face flushed, ever so slightly, as memories began to cloud the corners of his mind. And then he began to feel that strange mix of guilt and embarrassment; a completely confusing, incomprehensible mish-mash of emotion that tore his heartbeat inbetween indecisively speeding up and stopping altogether.

And yet, despite that, Battler still couldn't look away.

His eyes were transfixed by Ronove's neck.

_He _did that.

_He did._

And Ronove hadn't seemed to mind too much when Battler's teeth had been biting into flesh, sliding his tongue across the raised skin and pressing light kisses that slowly evolved into something more ravenous against the curve of his neck...

Battler shuddered.

This was bad.

This was very bad.

Beatrice didn't look very happy.

In fact, she looked the complete opposite of 'happy'.

Even though she had her usual long, sweeping, impractical dress back, hiding her legs in a swathe of material (and yet still exposing so much skin round her chest and shoulders it was a wonder she got so flustered over Gaap's peculiar 'fashion sense' in the first place), she still didn't look like her usual self.

Neither did Gaap, come to think of it. Her curls- which Battler had always believed to be indestructible- were slightly smushed and misshapen at one side, as though somebody had smashed her head repteadly gainst a wall (which wasn't that far from the truth). To further add to her bedraggled appearance, she also had a very fetching black eye and a split lip.

Even though, Gaap wore all of her injuries with a cruel smile.

Mainly because _she_ wasn't the one Beatrice wanted to murder anymore.

She'd had a pretty lucky escape, all things considered.

She'd have to thank Ronove for it later...

Or maybe not.

Gaap pouted.

"Ah, it's totally not fair, though!" Gaap complained, placing her hands at her hips. Two of the long, talon-like fingernails on her left hand had been snapped off (it was a crying shame- those fingernails _made _her outfit!) "I mean, a really- well, not _really _really, but he's passable, I guess- hot guy comes to the meta world, and **then** his attention gets all diverted by Ronove! How is that fair? I know butlers are meant to be charming and all, but sheesh- how could you resist a sexy femme fatale like me?"

"_Gaap_. This isn't helping," hissed Virgilia.

"Okay, okay!" Gaap said, scandalized, as she held her hands up in mock self-defense. "Don't get on my case, Lia, I'm just _saying_!"

"I wish you wouldn't. The day when you learn to think before you open your mouth will be a great one," said Virgilia, sighing, as she pressed her fingertips against her temple.

"I fear that may be an impossibility," said Ronove.

"Yes... Your fears are mine exactly," said Virgilia, nodding. She was beyond sounding merely 'etired' now- instead, she sounded _broken._

Virgilia's face was ashen, her fingers were trembling, and her eyelids had fallen completely closed. Her usual smile was nowhere in sight.

If she sounded broken, she looked it, too.

Battler couldn't help but feel that was his fault. He hoped he hadn't taken any years off Virgilia's lifespan by... 'surprising' her like that. Virgilia may have been a witch, but Battler didn't wish death upon her; not really.

That would just be another thing to feel guilty about.

"Urgh. Somebody's getting kinda touchy," Gaap muttered under her breath, voice mutinous. "_I'm _not the one who was screwing-"

"Miss Gaap. As pleasant as I find your company I, too, would appreciate it if you could be quiet for a few moments," said Ronove. He was smiling, just slightly- but it wasn't his usual smile. "Or perhaps you could entertain yourself elsewhere?"

Gaap made a face.

Then, she sighed, and pressed two fingers against her forehead in a mock salute.

"Alright then, captain. What~eeever you say. I'm wa~ay to awesome to stick around here anyway- you're all, like, cramping my style. Fufufu~"

And- for perhaps one of the first times in her life- Gaap actually listened to somebody other than herself.

She took Ronove's advice, and decided to leave.

Ronove- like Virgilia- wasn't acting at all like his usual self. His words were strained with fatigue, and his usual charm was all-but absent. Gaap couldn't help but pity him, just a little. She understood his dilemma. So what if Ronove was totally obsessed with Battler? People didn't understand Gaap's strong, unquenchable lust for gorgeous clothes, either!

The two things were similar, right?

Sort of...?

"Gaap, don't go back and harass Cornelia!" Virgilia called after her. "Don't make a nuisance of yourself- _please_."

"Huh?" Gaap tilted her head to one side, and beamed angelically (which was quite a contrast against her inappropriate dress). "I don't know what you mean~ But I never made any promises~ Kukuku~"

"You are _impossible_."

"I love you too, Lia!~"

And then Gaap vanished.

Leaving Virgilia, Beatrice, Ronove and Battler to stand in silence and look at each other awkwardly.

...Somehow, without Gaap, the tense situation- which had been lightened by the blonde demon's frequent cackling and light-hearted teasing- had become a lot heavier.

Battler didn't like that silence.

It wasn't a good silence.

It was heavy- almost tangible- and seemed to weigh down on him, until he winced.

Thankfully, Beatrice took it upon herself to shatter that heavy, heavy silence with a sudden exclamation.

"I-I hate it!"

Battler turned to look at Beatrice with narrowed eyes.

Her face was flushed, her hair was messy, and her fingers were clenched into fists in her lap.

"What, exactly, do you hate?" he asked- somewhat more defensively than the situation warranted.

Beatrice acted like such a cruel, sadistic bitch most of the time Battler wasn't even sure it was physically possible for her _to _like anything- apart from murder. And that wasn't a socially acceptable hobby, really.

Why couldn't Beatrice have enjoyed reading or knitting, or something that didn't involve homicide, like a normal person?

...Not that Battler could really imagine Beatrice knitting.

And the mere thought of Beato being anybody other than her horrible self- say, if she suddenly had a lobotomy and then became an adorable, gooey-eyed girl yanked straight from a shoujo manga- was quite disturbing, really.

"This," Beatrice said, gesturing between Battler and Ronove. "It's... Hnghh." Beatrice's nose scrunched up, and her eyes narrowed. "I-I don't like it..."

"What?" Battler couldn't help but smirk. "Jealous?"

Some part of his brain was shouting 'why are you trying to make the situation worse, _idiot_?' but he couldn't help himself. The words came out of his mouth before he could stuff them back in.

He was Beatrice's opponent; he couldn't stand idly by and blush like his face was on fire whilst she shouted at him.

He had to counter her violent temper in some way.

And he wasn't going to give in.

Beatrice's eyes narrowed.

"Of course not," she replied. Instead of shouting, Beatrice's voice had- instead- become very low and dangerous; almost serpentine, as she spat the words out vehemently like a viper spewed venom. "I'm just irritated."

"You always are," Battler replied. "So nothing's new there. Ihihi~"

At this point Ronove placed his hand on Battler's shoulder (Beatrice glowered, and Battler felt his own insides constrict a little at that slight movement and... yeah, that was probably a bad thing. Damn 'mystery potion x') and turned Battler round to face him.

Ronove was smiling, but it was slight- just barely tugging at his lips.

"Your enthusiasm is indeed refreshing, but I believe it would be... unwise... to further irritate Milady in her current mood."

Battler tipped his head to one side, his bangs casting shadow across his face.

Then, he smirked.

"You should've thought about that before you said 'please, Master, fuck me harder' then, shouldn't you?"

The effect those words had on everybody assembled was quite beautiful.

Virgilia turned to look at Ronove accusingly- but her expression of indignant anger was muted, somewhat, by her too-wide eyes and her open mouth.

Beatrice clenched her teeth together so tightly it looked like she had lockjaw.

And a very light, barely visible blush began to stain Ronove's cheeks.

That was the most satisfying response of all.

"I-I won't allow it!" Beatrice exclaimed, shaking her head. Her hair still wasn't tied up properly- that job generally fell upon Ronove, and he'd been a tad 'preoccupied' with other, more important things to style Beatrice's all-over-the-place, messy locks- and wispy, golden curls fluttered about her face as she moved. "I-I won't! Battler is _**my**_ opponent, and _my _toy. And I don't want to share!"

Battler opened his mouth.

Readied a response.

But, at that moment...

Battler realized something.

His confident, arrogant smirk slipped a little- ever so slightly.

At that moment, Beatrice had sounded so petulant, so childish- and yet, at the same time, so possessive- it was almost alarming.

Beatrice's face was flushed, not from embarrassment but from anger, and her eyes were narrowed, her arms was folded, and even though she was wearing that beautiful dress her hair looked like pond weed or some mutant alien creature from a horror movie, and wasn't she meant to be the proud, arrogant 'Golden Witch'?

Wasn't she meant to be Battler's terrifying opponent?

But Beatrice didn't look much like a witch then.

Instead, she looked like a small child.

A sudden memory hit Battler- with such force it felt like being backhanded across the face. He even recoiled, slightly, at he intensity of it.

The memory wasn't from too long ago. At least, not in 'human world' terms- but Battler had been existing in that strange, white-washed plane of reality separate from his family for so long it felt like the memory had occurred an eternity ago.

Maybe it had.

Battler had been pushing Ange on the swings in the park- and Battler, being rather exuberant and loud with an inability to shut up for more than two seconds, had soon attracted the attention of a few other children. This small girl with black pigtails and big, brown eyes had asked Battler if he'd push her on the swings next, and she thought he was 'so cool'- and her voice had been all shy and soft and she'd been stammering.

Of course, Battler had grinned, flashed her a thumbs up, and said no problem.

Because it hadn't been a problem.

Not to him.

But Ange hadn't been very happy about that.

She hadn't been happy_ at all._

As Battler spoke to the pigtail'd girl Ange's face had grown sourer and sourer, until- finally- she snapped.

"It's not fair!" Ange had said, her eyes narrowed. She'd taken hold of Battler's hand protectively, glaring serrated knives at the other girl. "He's_** my**_ big brother! Not yours! All mine! Go away! I don't want to share!"

The look on Beatrice's face was... exactly the same as Ange's had been.

Exactly the same.

'I don't want to share!'

If you looked at that phrase in a certain way, it was almost endearing.

That is, if you didn't take into account the fact Beatrice was a ruthless witch who wanted to ensnare Battler in her web of serial murders and guts spewing candy canes so she could break his sanity until he fell apart.

But Beatrice didn't look so ruthless at that precise moment.

She was even _pouting._

It may have been a stupid move, but Battler smiled- just a little- with perhaps more fondness than he really should've felt.

Beato was_ still_ his enemy, even if her sudden possessive nature was quite cute. He couldn't be drawn into her large, blue eyes, or her trembling lower lip! He wouldn't be defeated by her!

But she looked so much like Ange had done it was almost impossible to _not_ find her expression cute.

"That," said Battler, smirking, "has to be the _strangest _confession I've ever heard."

Beatrice's face flushed deep scarlet at this- but she tried to remain aloof.

"It's not a _confession_," she said scathingly. "Have you lost your mind? I would _never _confess to somebody like you!"

"Aw, don't get so embarrassed~" said Battler, smiling. "I'll still play with you too, okay? I won't abandon our 'game' no matter what! Even if I don't find it as 'fun' as you evidently do..."

"Don't treat me like I'm a child! I'm the Golden Witch, Beatrice!" the Golden Witch, Beatrice, declared childishly, folding her arms. "I don't want Ronove- my _own butler_- having more power over you than I do! I-I'm going to make you glorify _my _name and kiss the tips of _my _shoes- this is a game between _you and me_! Nobody else!"

Battler smirked.

"Aha~ Beato, you might've gotten it a little mixed up there."

"How?"

Battler's eyes narrowed. His face filled with determination.

That smirk grew even wider.

And even more dangerous.

And when Battler next spoke, his voice had dropped in volume.

"Let me show you~"

Then, in one fluid motion, Battler took hold of Ronove's arm with considerable force. He pulled the taller man against him- one arm snaking round his waist to hold him in place. The fingertips of his free hand moved to cup Ronove's cheek- trailing down the press, experimentally, against the bruised skin on his neck.

Battler had pinned Ronove in place.

And he wasn't going to let him go.

Beatrice may have been childish, but if this was another competition between rivals (who could be the most immature?), then Battler would prove he was (and could be) even worse.

And Battler didn't want to abandon his newest toy.

Not before he'd had a chance to play with him some more.

"B-battler?"

The faint stammer in Ronove's voice was enough to make Battler's heartbeat race.

"You see, Beato?" asked Battler. His fingertips skimmed along the bruises on Ronove's neck, making Ronove shudder. "Ronove's not the one who has power over me. It's the other way round."

"Aha~" Ronove gave a soft sound, that was halfway between a laugh and a sigh. "Would it not be more prudent- and, indeed, less reckless- to split the 'power' fifty fifty?"

But Battler shook his head stubbornly, pressing his body against Ronove's with more force.

"_No_."

"A-ah… B-battler…"

Ronove's arms looped round Battler's waist- perhaps unwittingly- so Battler couldn't move away; keeping him place.

So needy…

Even so, Ronove was smiling- ever so slightly.

"This can't be productive in forming a healthy relationship."

"I don't care~"

In a sudden, possessive display of dominance, Battler tugged on Ronove's shirt- pressing their mouths together in a quick, messy kiss.

It didn't last very long at all- only a few seconds- but it was enough to leave both parties breathless, hearts hammering.

They continued to hold onto each other, fingers pressing against clothes- standing far, far too close.

It had always pissed Battler off when Beato's butler invaded his personal space before…

But now Battler invited it.

The warmth of another body against his was maddening.

Intoxicating.

_Mn…_

Battler smirked, running his tongue against his lower lip slowly- very slowly- as though he were savouring the after taste of something sweet.

That smirk… suited Battler far better than it should've done.

"So, if you want to blame anybody for this," said Battler suddenly, turning to Beato (but he didn't move away from Ronove- his arms didn't fall from his middle), "then you should _probably _blame me."

"You really are quite insistent, aren't you?" said Ronove, humor lacing through his words.

Battler smiled in response.

"Yep. Ihihi~"

"Do I have a choice in the matter?"

"Not at all~"

"Well, it's nice to know where we stand."

"It is, isn't it?" Battler mumbled, slowly- very carefully- lacing his fingers with Ronove's, watching the slight contrast made between those white gloves and his own skin.

Battler frowned.

His feelings were confused- as chaotic as a multitude of golden butterflies, all flitting about and colliding with one another; a complete blur.

But… he didn't want Ronove to leave…

And, at that moment, Battler didn't care whether a 'mystery potion X' was behind his feelings or not.

He didn't.

It didn't really matter, because this was the outcome.

Standing there.

Fingers linked with Ronove's.

And- for all of Beatrice's wide-eyed stares and poor Virgilia's confusion, and Battler's own mixed feelings that perhaps this wasn't the best move he could've made- Battler was… happy…

He was.

"I do kind of like you, Beato, even though you're a horrible human being and I should- logically- despite you. But I guess I'm not a very logical person, because I can't," said Battler.

He smiled- but there a definite hint of defiance in the words he spoke next.

"But, seriously. Just because I don't hate you, it doesn't mean I'm going to do anything you say. And I draw the line at glorifying your hard-to-pronounce name or kissing your shoes. You can't have everything you want. And if you don't accept that, I'm gonna have to assume my opponent is a selfish child who doesn't like being defeated- which is a shame, because I'm sure there's more to you that that…"

"I hate to interrupt you during your incredibly-well improvised speech," Ronove said (an obvious lie)- and, though his face was still faintly flushed, his usual, incomprehensible smile had returned- "but you appear to be acting rather selfishly yourself, Battler~"

"Huh? You've got a problem with that?"

"Not particularly... I, personally, happen to find all this selfish behaviour centred around me quite exceedingly interesting," Ronove replied. He laughed softly- more an exhale of air than anything- and it made Battler tremble. "But surely even you can see how hypocritical you sound."

"Well, I never said _I _wasn't a selfish child, didn't I?~"

"T-true…"

With a mischievous grin Battler very slowly, very deliberately, pressed himself against Ronove- and he was rewarded with another low moan.

"I-I believe I'm beginning to enjoy this rather... possessive... side of you..."

"Well, I already knew _that_," Battler mumbled, his voice dipping in volume. "Tell me something I don't know~"

"Your arrogance certainly is… astounding… Even to somebody like me, who has a close relationship with Miss Gaap. Pu ku ku~"

"Not as close as _our _relationship, though?"

"Ah~ Not quite… I'm afraid Miss Gaap would try and eat me alive."

Battler arched a brow. "And I haven't?"

Ronove smirked, ever so slightly. "That's different…"

"Ihihi~ My 'arrogance'- as you called it- isn't completely baseless, y'know." Battler pressed his lips against Ronove's ear- nipping flesh gently (he had some kind of strange obsession with eating people... Was that normal? Then again, Ronove didn't seem to mind; if anything, Ronove leaned into his touch even more, inviting Battler to do whatever he pleased) before whispering, voice sensuous, "are you still willing to do 'anything' I want?~"

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, but that was only a- a-ah..." Ronove broke off to gasp, ever so softly, as Battler's teeth pressed against his ear again. "A-a one time offer..."

"Oh. Now that's a shame. I was looking forward to seeing what other interesting things you can do. Ihihi..." Battler laughed softly.

Then, his voice dipped in volume once more- until it was almost inaudible. However, his lips were pressed against Ronove's ear; Battler didn't want to waste a single word.

"But what about the other thing you said?"

"What other thing could you be referring to, I wonder?~"

"You know…" Battler smirked, voice teasing. "Do you still want me to- and I quote- 'fuck you harder'?"

Ronove made a small noise of consent, cupping Battler's chin with his own fingers and pressing another kiss against his lips.

"Mn~ But maybe this isn't the right time."

"I'm a horny teenager. It's always the right time."

"I-is that all you see me as? A... play thing?" Ronove mumbled, miming hurt- though he was still smiling. "I'm wounded."

"Well…" Battler's lips pursed slightly, and he dropped his gaze to the floor.

How could he reply to a question like that?

It was said with a teasing lilt- obviously, Ronove hadn't meant for him to take it seriously- and yet Battler found himself wondering…

Was this really the result of some weird 'mystery potion X', or was this feeling- this desire- to press his lips against Ronove's and elicit more breathy moans from him based on… something else…?

Something deeper?

Battler's eyes widened, ever so slightly, as he felt a light pressure on his forehead.

Ronove had kissed him.

…Somehow, that simple, affectionate gesture seemed far more intimate than anything they'd done before; even given their current positions, standing together so closely there was barely any room to move.

Ronove smiled.

"It's alright. You don't need to reply. I was just pondering aloud."

"S-sure…"

Ronove's smile took on a rather more mischievous edge, as his fingers tipped Battler's chin up so they were looking each other in the eye.

"I believe I can utilise my talents to get a suitable answer out you later, at any rate."

Battler smiled in spite of himself- and then pressed another light kiss against Ronove's mouth, their lips just brushing for barely a second.

"H-ha… You're pretty confident in your skills," said Battler. His eyes narrowed. "That sounds like a challenge."

"Maybe it is~" Ronove teased. "However, be that as it may, I think… perhaps Milady and Miss Virgilia are less enraptured by your newfound possessive nature than I am."

Battler let his hands fall from Ronove's waist slowly, almost reluctantly, as he turned to face the other two people he'd previously ignored.

Virgilia's face was completely pale.

Beatrice's eyes, meanwhile, had widened to such proportions they ate up at least three quarters of her face. It was a blatant defiance of biology and the laws of rationality- and it was just a little bit disturbing. Beatrice looked just like a deer in the headlights- confused, disturbed, and dangerous.

(Well, maybe frolicking fauna about to be hit by quickly moving vehicles didn't look 'dangerous', but the simile still applied for the first two counts.)

"W-what? I-I... I mean..." Beatrice stammered, searching for words helplessly as one would try to find a foothold on a smooth mountainside.

And yet, try as she did, the right words eluded her.

Again.

And again.

"Hmn?" Battler raised a brow. "Not going to feed me to the goat people, Beato? I'm disappointed."

"There_ is_ such a thing as pushing your luck too far, Battler," Battler," Ronove said, still smiling. "Ah... I believe now would be a rather good time to leave- before Milady returns to her senses."

"That," said Battler, "is a **very **good idea."

* * *

"Hey, Pumpkin Head."

Cornelia looked up in alarm, her eyes wide.

Oh no... Not _that _voice!

But it _was _that voice.

And- logically enough- it was _that person_, too.

Cornelia had been sat on her bed, in the comfort of her own house, wearing her own clothes (she felt dirty wearing her Eiserne Jungfrau uniform now, after everything that disgusting demon had said. Cornelia had always known their outfits were a little… 'risqué', but the idea of a creepy demon like Gaap getting off on them was sort of horrifying).

Cornelia had thought she was safe in her own home.

It was her haven.

Her sanctuary.

Nothing could hurt her there.

Dressed in her favorite over-sized hoodie, hair tied up in two stubby pigtails, her knees brought up under her chin, eyes trained on some old Delsney movie in her attempts to rekindle her belief in finding her 'one true love', Cornelia had been content.

Maybe even happy.

And then Gaap had appeared.

Or, to be more precise, Gaap's torso had appeared. The other half of the curly-haired, smirking demon was lost in some swirling vortex- and Cornelia wasn't all too interested in seeing where that vortex led to. The bowels of hell, where Gaap had clearly been spawned from?

"Aww, Pumpkin Head!~" Gaap cooed, flopping down next to Cornelia on her bed (Cornelia cringed) and prodding at one of her stumpy pigtails. "You look so cu~ute!"

"L-let it be known that I don't!"

"Oh. Okay." Gaap shrugged. "You look absolutely hideous."

Cornelia could only blink at Gaap, her mouth falling open in a small 'o'.

T-that demon had spent so long waxing poetic about how adorable she looked in her uniform, and now she was going to take it all back? She was going to ret-con everything she said?

That… wasn't acceptable!

And, above all-

"T-that's mean…!"

Gaap only laughed in response.

"Then don't get so haughty when I tell you how adorable you are. Just accept the compliment. Geesh- you'd be, like, su~uch a high maintenance girlfriend" said Gaap, prodding Cornelia in the head gently. "Stu~pid. Stuu~pid."

Cornelia's face flushed.

"Tehehe~ I love it when you do that~" Gaap giggled.

Then, her interest piqued by something besides Cornelia (a miracle!) Gaap turned to look at the TV in the corner of the shorter girl's room.

"Hey? What are you watching?"

Cornelia's face blossomed beet red.

"N-nothing!"

Cornelia reached for the remote quicker than you could say 'Delsney'- and, effectively, she cut Belle off, mid-song, about wanting adventure in the great wide somewhere.

Cornelia couldn't help but feel irritation creep up her spinal column to join the thick, heavy embarrassment that filled her mind.

She liked that song.

Why did Gaap have to spoil it?

…Gaap spoilt everything.

"Beauty and the Beast?~" Gaap asked, smirking.

"S-shut up…"

"You're such a pure, innocent little kid. It seems not even I could corrupt that!" Gaap smirked. "Should I try harder?"

"I wish you wouldn't," Cornelia said, eyes narrowed. "Get out of my house."

"Ooh~ She's so feisty!"

"Seriously!" Cornelia countered, jabbing one finger at her bedroom door. "Get out!"

"Okay, okay!" Gaap sighed.

Then, with a complex twist of her wrist, another portal began to form at Gaap's impractical, _very_ high-heeled, stiletto'd feet.

Cornelia shot the swirling vortex of darkness and mystery a dubious look, and edged away from it slightly. She didn't want to be sucked into some strange, alternative universe- not with _Gaap_, of all people.

"It's a shame, though~" said Gaap, pressing a finger against her lower lip in thought. "Here I was, _totally _going to apologize to you and return some of that stuff I took, but... If you don't want me to..."

At the phrase 'return some of that stuff I took', Cornelia's eyes widened.

Then, in a sudden spate of fury (Cornelia worked so hard to remain frosty at work her robotic façade had completely cracked- split down the middle), Cornelia prodded a finger in Gaap's face accusingly. Her stubby pigtails bounced softly as she moved, ruining the effect just a little- but Cornelia's narrowed, crimson eyes made up for it.

"So it _was _you!" said Cornelia. "I-it was you! _You _were the one who stole my shoes... and my hat..."

"And these~" said Gaap proudly, showing Cornelia a handful of...

Batteries.

The batteries from her clock.

The batteries that had been mysteriously emptying themselves from her clock for the past two months.

…Of course.

Cornelia's eyes narrowed.

This demon- this stupidly-dressed, arrogant, smirking demon with smushed-up curls and a black eye- had been the source of her misery for so long! It was because of _this _demon she was always late for work, could never find her things, and was scolded so harshly by the others! It was because of this demon-

"E-eep!"

Cornelia had been frozen in shock as the pieces of the puzzle connected in her mind- and, like a true demon, Gaap had taken advantage of her enemy's distraction to do something hideous, something unthinkable; something _evil._

She'd prodded Cornelia on the nose.

(Cornelia couldn't help but note two of those long, red-painted fingernails Gaap was so proud of were missing. Did she get into a fight?

That wouldn't have been too surprising, considering Gaap's main mission in life seemed to be to upset everybody as much as possible.)

"Tsk tsk tsk~" said Gaap, waving a finger in Cornelia's direction. "Don't go attributing all your mistakes me little old me, y'know? I don't deserve that much credit. You're still a total klutz, with or without demonic intervention."

"T-that may be so..." said Cornelia. "But, even so, you should take responsibility for your own actions! Give me my stuff back!"

"Now now, don't be so hasty. Manners don't cost a penny."

"M-miss Virgilia was right. Manners _are _a two-way thing. And it should be known- I'll let it _be_ known- that you don't deserve any! I don't have to be polite to you!"

"Aww. Well isn't that a shame. I guess you don't want your batteries back, then. Or your shoes. Or your hat. Or your Beauty and the Beast CD~"

Cornelia's eyes widened as she saw Gaap pluck that CD- her _favorite_ CD, the CD she thought she'd lost- from out of the portal in the floor.

"G-give that back!"

"Not until you remember your pleases and your thank yous~ Then I might consider it."

"U-urgh..."

Cornelia's fingers clenched into fists. Her eyelashes fluttered shut. She tried to breathe like Gertrude had instructed her to do when she got riled up; in and out, in and out, very, very slowly...

She counted to ten inside her head.

Then, Cornelia said- in very careful, measured tones, that were almost as robotic as Dlanor's- "Let it be known that I, Cornelia, would be very thankful if you returned my possessions, Miss Gaap."

Gaap smiled.

"See? That wasn't so hard, was it? Here you go~ I'm sorry I took it. But you looked so cute and flustered it was hard to resist." Gaap snickered slightly, tilting her head to one side. "But you're clumsy enough without my help, anyway. It was probably unfair going for such a weak target~"

"A-ah... I-I'm not weak..."

"Sure. Whatever you say." Gaap smiled. "I'm sure you'll get stronger. And when you do, I'll come back to steal more stuff~"

Cornelia gave a small gasp, her robotic façade broken, as Gaap pressed her CD- her favourite CD- back into her hands.

Cornelia hadn't expected Gaap would actually keep her end of the bargain.

Not even after she apologized.

The only reason Cornelia _had_ apologized was so- after Gaap broke her promise (which had seemed inevitable) she could hate the curly-haired, poorly-dressed demon even more.

But that… hadn't happened.

Maybe Gaap wasn't quite that bad...?

"T-thank you..." Cornelia muttered, her face slightly flushed. "I-I... appreciate it.. R-really…"

"No problem, Pumpkin Head."

Then- moving so quickly she was a blur of bouncing curls and a wide, demented smirk- Gaap pressed another quick kiss against Cornelia's cheek- and drew away, smirking.

Cornelia's fingertips went to her cheek in surprise, her mouth falling open in a small 'o'.

"A-ah...?"

"Gyahaha~ You look so surprised when I do that, it's so adorable! It makes me want to kidnap you and put you in a box!~" Gaap grinned.

Cornelia flushed.

"Remeber~" said Gaap, as her swirling portal of malevolent darkness began to engulf her body, "I _**am **_a demon. You better watch your back from now on! If you haven't learnt your lesson already, big sis Gaap will be really disappointed, Cornelia~ Gyahaha!"

And then, with a burst of psychotic laughter that was probably murder on the vocal chords, Gaap vanished.

Cornelia was left, holding her CD to her chest, a light blush staining her cheeks...

And, for some reason, her heart was racing.

"Huh... This doesn't look right..."

Cornelia frowned, as she opened the case of her favorite CD- only to find a rather interesting 'surprise' inside.

Oh, sure, it _was _a CD- there was no doubt about it. Gaap hadn't put a cockroach or a spider, or the entrails of a dead bird inside a plastic case (although Cornelia was sure such feats of pointless cruelty were not beyond her).

But the CD inside the case didn't look at all like the CD it _should _have been.

Frowning, Cornelia placed the suspicious disc inside her CD player, set it to a random track, and waited.

Roughly three seconds later, she nearly jumped out of her skin, as an especially loud clash of deep, guttural lyrics, shrieking guitar and a cacophony of drums assaulted her eardrums.

'_**And in my dreams I cut your mouth from ear to ear,**__**  
**__**Dissecting your angelic body-**_'

Cornelia hit the eject button in record time, her body trembling all over.

T-that hadn't been Beauty and the Beast...

That hadn't been Beauty and the Beast _at all._

Cornelia now knew, without a shadow of a doubt, what she would be hearing in her nightmares that night.

And the young, third class priest swore- when she strained her ears- that she could hear a high-pitched, female voice.

It was laughing at her.

* * *

It was several minutes before Beatrice finally spoke.

She turned to look at Virgilia with a mixture of confusion, hurt and upset in her voice, as she asked- voice plaintive, like a small child pondering how gravity worked- "Teacher...?"

"What?"

Virgilia honestly expected Beatrice to surge forwards into some tirade about how she was going to murder Battler and murder Ronove and, in effect, murder _every single person in the whole world_, until she got bored of that and revived Ronove's corpse so she could have some tea that didn't suck (because, for whatever reason, Beatrice didn't like Virgilia's tea- and letting any of the stakes ((with the possible exceptions of Belphegor and Lucifer)) so much as** hold** a teapot would've resulted in pandemonium and an all-out war).

Ranting would have been a standard Beatrice response.

Shouting would have been a standard Beatrice response.

Sacrificing small, fluffy animals would have been a reasonably normal Beatrice response.

And Virgilia had been mentally preparing for it ever since Battler and Ronove left.

It was, therefore, rather shocking- and just a little heart-warming- to see Beatrice's lower lip tremble, and her face flush.

"Am I really... selfish...?"

Virgilia blinked slowly, completely stunned by this question.

Virgilia's whole day had been one long string of bizarre events upon bizarre events until the whole universe seemed to have fallen over on its axis- but that innocent, naïve question from a wide-eyed Beatrice was what really tipped the scales.

This was, officially, the strangest day in Publius Virgilia Maro's life.

And she was acquainted with _Zepar and Furfur_.

"I'm not selfish, am I?" Beatrice asked, looking down at her lap. She began to play around with her fingers, threading them together, almost tying knots with her hands- before throwing them in the air in agitation.

Beatrice bit her lower lip.

"I... It's not like I want Battler to hate me."

"He doesn't hate you," said Virgilia consolingly.

"But he was so much nicer to Ronove than me," Beatrice said darkly, glaring down at her lap. "I-it's not fair! Is this that 'male bond' thing again? They always seem to get along so well..."

Virgilia's face flushed, as she remembered the way Battler had pressed his body against Ronove's and-

"I don't think it's quite like that, Beato."

"Hmn..."

Beatrice frowned; apparently lost in thought.

Then, a rather disturbing smile spread across her face.

Virgilia didn't like that smile.

"No matter! I, the Golden Witch, Beatrice-"

"I already know who you are. Telling me your title all the time is rather redundant."

"-have just come to a conclusion!" Beatrice continued, ignoring Virgilia (a lot of people seemed to do that). "I won't back down from any challenge! I'll make Battler realize just how charming I am, and then he'll become obsessed with **_me_** instead!~"

Beatrice's eyes narrowed. Her voice dropped in volume.

"And then I'll _break him._"

Virgilia couldn't help but sigh at that.

Gaap, Battler, Beatrice- they were all children.

Complete and utter idiots.

And yet, despite that all, Virgilia still loved them.

...Somebody had to.

And somebody needed to stay by Beatrice's side to ensure she didn't do anything stupid.

"Alright," said Virgilia, smiling softly. "I think I may just have a plan."

"I knew I could count on you, teacher!~" Beatrice said, grinning. "What's it called? Tell me, tell me!~"

"It's called..."

Virgilia cleared her throat.

Readjusted her hat.

Then, she smiled- her usual sleepy smile, with those half-lidded eyes.

But when she spoke, her voice was glacial.

"Have you ever heard of the North Wind and the Sun Strategy?"

* * *

**a/n: **In case you're wondering (lol nobody's wondering XD) the charming song Cornelia listens to is 'Closed Casket Requiem' by the Black Dhalia Murder.  
I love the Black Dhalia Murder, and listened to their songs like, exclusively, when writing this chapter, and now I've given myself a headache XD so much RAWWRRRR i don't even :D (I kind of listen to almost any genre of music, and usually what I listen to has nothing to do with the mood of the stories I write XDD)

This is the final chapter.  
The next chapter is the epilogue.

Y'see, I have a problem here. I /love/ Battler/Ronove, but I love Beato/Battler too (the only reason I don't like writing the latter too much is because it's already a canon pairing), and I had difficulties juggling my love for both pairings here XD~ But I hope it turned out semi-alright-ish XDD  
This chapter was originally going to go differently, but then Battler grew a backbone and stood up for himself a lil' more. He's also turning into a psychopath on Beato levels... XD; I'm sure Ronove'll be able to sort him out though XD

Epilogue will be up soon ^_^;;  
I hope you stay tuned :D

**Edit:****  
**_26/10/2011: _Some spelling fixed, redundant sentences removed, and the like :3

**~renahhchen xoxo**


	13. Epilogue: Not so unlucky after all

**An Unfortunate Outcome****  
**Epilogue

'Not so unlucky after all'

* * *

"S-stop..."

Battler paused, face flushed- blinking, in surprise, at Ronove. Beato's butler had one hand pressed against Battler's chest, fingers splayed- keeping them apart.

Pushing Battler away.

Why was he doing that...?

Ronove hadn't shown any objections to Battler's 'affections' before- quite the opposite, in fact.

Why had he changed his mind?

That wasn't fair!

"H-hey, come on," said Battler, voice trembling with badly contained lust. "Don't get me all worked up like that and then... stop. D-don't mess around with me!"

"I rather thought you _wanted _me to 'mess around with you'?" Ronove asked, smiling; misunderstanding deliberately, just to be irritating. "You've changed your mind...?"

Battler's eyes narrowed.

"I don't mean it like that and you know it."

"I apolgise for misunderstanding, then."

"Y-you should."

"I just did."

Ronove's fingers gently cupped Battler's cheek as he spoke. Ronove's fingers were free of their usual gloves- Battler had no idea where they'd gone; probably to the same place as his own tie, his jacket, and his self control- and the sensation of skin against skin with no barriers between made Battler shudder. Ronove's gentle touch ensured Battler's eyes remained trained on Ronove's; blue staring into blue...

Battler flushed slightly. Something about Ronove's gaze was too intense- but, though he wanted to avert his eyes, he couldn't.

So Battler stood there, frozen. In stasis.

Unable to move.

Unable to even think properly.

All he could do was feel...

A-ah...

The light pressure of Ronove's fingers against his skin felt hot, leaving faint trails of fire along Battler's flesh; a strange, tingling sensation, like pins and needles (only far more acute) began to bloom where Ronove's fingertips touched skin.

"I assure you, it's not my intention to 'mess around with you'," said Ronove, smiling. "At least, not at the moment."

"O-oh really? A-and why should I believe you?"

Ronove smiled, drawing Battler in for a quick kiss- their lips pressing together for only a few seconds.

"Because I'm a gentleman." Ronove muttered this against Battler's ear, his voice barely a whisper- and though Battler couldn't see his face, he knew Ronove was still smiling his almost incomprehensible smile. That damn butler. "I keep my word."

"Aha... Ihihihi..."

"Is something funny, Battler?~"

Ronove's voice was teasing- but those fingertips, splayed across Battler's cheek, were even more so.

It wasn't... enough...

Battler felt his breath leave his mouth in short, sharp gasps; he was trembling, shaking, and Ronove wouldn't stop _talking_-

"Y-you call yourself a 'gentleman', but you're also a demon," said Battler, his own fingers taking hold of Ronove's- moving them away from his face.

It was difficult to think properly, let alone string together a half-comprehensible sentence, when Ronove kept touching him- especially after _**he**_ was the one who'd told him to 'stop'.

What a hypocrite.

"Everything that you say's a lie anyway," Battler continued, glaring at Ronove- but not before his lips tugged into another challenging smile. "So why don't you put your mouth to better use?"

"Mn~ Battler, you're so incredibly _charming_."

"And sarcasm is the lowest form of wit."

"Pu ku ku~ Are you attempting to instigate an argument?"

"I wouldn't be tryingto instigate _anything_ if you'd just... J-just..."

"Just...?~"

"S-stop making fun of me."

Impatient, cheeks flushed, Battler's arms encircled Ronove's waist- trying to pull that damn butler into another kiss.

But he couldn't.

Battler was met with a resistance- and he blinked, confused (almost disoriented) to find Ronove's hand pressed against his chest again. Denying him anymore of that delicious contact...

Battler's eyes narrowed.

"R-ronove..." Battler muttered, forcing the words through gritted teeth. "You're _torturing _me."

"Please don't be melodramatic."

"I-I can be as melodramatic as I want. I'm a teenager."

"And I'm a thousand years old~ Not the perfect basis for a functional relationship, is it?"

"Like I even _care_."

"I know you don't~ That's part of your appeal."

Ronove was smiling; smiling a horribly mocking way that made Battler want to punch him in the face _and _crash their mouths together at the same.

However, it'd probably be impractical, painful and incredibly trying to do that- so Battler decided he'd have to settle for the latter option.

That'd be more satisfying.

"J-just... A-ah... _Ronove_."

_Definitely _more satisfying.

Ronove blinked down at Battler- and, as Battler returned his gaze, Battler noticed Ronove's smile didn't look quite as fake as usual anymore.

It was more genuine- and his eyes were softer.

"I'm sorry if I'm... aha... 'torturing' you, as you put it," said Ronove; and, for perhaps the first time, that line actually sounded believable coming from Ronove's mouth.

Battler felt something in his chest begin to flutter. It felt... just a little... like he was going to be sick?

_Well._

That was a romantic thought.

Face flushing, Battler ducked his head, hiding behind his haphazard, messy bangs.

Ronove's expression was far too sincere- not nearly as incomprehensible as it should've been- and it was making Ronove's embrace seem too tender, too caring.

And much, much too meaningful.

Battler shuddered as he felt Ronove's fingertips- bare flesh sliding against his, it felt good, almost electric (to use a terrible cliché)- cup his chin once more, bringing their eyes together in an overwhelming stare.

"I merely want to ask you a question," said Ronove.

"I-is that all?"

"Yes. Just one question. I promise."

"A-ah... I don't think much of your promises, you know."

"I'll keep my word. I swear."

Ronove's voice was soft, sensuous- and he could've said anything, really, and the result his words inspired in Battler would've been exactly the same.

Battler still would have moaned.

"Ihihi. A-and y-you choose _now, _of all times, to interrogate me? You have really sucky timing, I hope you know that, _genius_~" said Battler, voice laden with sarcasm; grinding his crotch against Ronove's to prove a point.

A low moan emitted from Ronove's lips- soft, breathy.

Needy.

"S-see," Battler said, eyes narrowing. "You want this as much as I do."

"Be that as it may- a-ah... I can still control myself."

"And you're saying I can't?"

"You're not convincing me at the moment~" Ronove replied, voice light, teasing. He was smiling.

Battler rolled his eyes. "W-well, I'm_ sorry_. I didn't realize having sex with you would require me to recite, I dunno, Shakespearean verse or something. Does foreplay always involve this much pointless _talk_, or is this just something about you?"

"I like listening to the sound of your voice."

"I-I like listening to the sound of _yours _when you're moaning a-and gasping even more... N-ngh..."

"Well~ We can save that for later," said Ronove, smiling. "After I've asked you my question."

Ronove's fingertips were gently tracing patterns against Battler's skin- and, as though Ronove were dipping his fingers into a pool of water, Battler felt ripples of heat spread across his face, throughout his body, at the lightest touch.

It felt like he was being manipulated.

His legs were weak; he was leaning against Ronove for support, sighing, his eyes half-lidded with lust-

And it didn't matter.

Battler liked being in control, he liked being a child- but if relinquishing control for a few moments resulted in a strange, over-powering rush of emotion and thought and feeling like that, then that... wasn't so bad... either...

"W-what do you want to ask?" asked Battler, his voice fragmented; beyond even_ trying _to control himself. "H-hurry up..."

He was beyond caring.

Caring about anything other Ronove.

"Hmn~ This may sound like a strange question- and forgive me if it confuses you-"

"Most of the things you say are confusing," Battler cut in. "Why break with tradition?"

"Well, quite."

There was a small, short pause. Ronove's eyes (they were so blue- almost piercing- and far be it from Battler to wax poetic about somebody's eyes ((things _every_ single human being had- so they weren't _**that**_ amazing)), but they seemed to have some kind of magnetic power...) bore into Battler's.

The silence only lasted a few seconds- but, to Battler, it could have dragged on for years.

The lightest touch against Battler's skin made him gasp, impatient; wanting to press Ronove against him and lose some more of those stifling clothes- i-it was so hot, and he could barely breathe...

"Battler."

"Mn?"

"This..." Ronove paused again- still smiling that painfully genuine smile- as he searched for the correct words. "Don't feel the need to give me an immediate response, but what you're saying- and doing... Are you acting like this merely to hurt Milady's feelings?"

It took a while for the full impact of those words to hit Battler.

And, when they did- his eyes widened.

What... was he doing?

Well, that question wasn't the complicated one; the answer to _that_ was fairly simple.

But _why_?

Why was he doing it?

And _that_ was the really confusing question.

Did it matter?

It _didn't _matter.

But the look in Ronove's face (Battler always found Ronove's unreadable expressions annoying, but his more vulnerable, earnest ones were even more so; mainly because they made Battler's heart constrict, his mind reeling with triumph he'd managed to procure such an honest expression from a reasonably untruthful person, and a strange feeling of warmth completely separate from his desire to control another person- their thoughts and feelings) suggested that it _did_ matter.

To Ronove, at least.

Why did that damn butler have to make everything so complicated?

Hell, just doing this- whatever 'this' was- with him was complicated enough; did they really need to make it worse?

Was Battler just using Ronove to irritate Beato; an extension of their twisted 'game', and somehow Ronove got reduced to a piece?

Or was this result of some strange 'love potion X' that Battler hardly believed in anyway?

Or was this... something... else?

It had started because of Asmobub and their 'love potion'; that was when the paranoia had begun to brush at the fringes of Battler's mind, and he'd allowed himself to wonder what it would be like if he really_ did _care about Ronove.

If he really did 'fall in love' with him.

And Battler's desire to command, to control- to, effectively, prove Beato didn't have sole rights over him (Battler could do whatever he wanted with whoever he wanted) and _he_ could dominate people too- had fuelled those vague imaginings and paranoid thoughts.

But was that it?

Was that all there was to it?

If that was case, why- after Battler had already seen Beatrice's wide-eyed, confused, childish face- was Battler still pressing against Ronove, desperate for more?

"It's alright. You don't need to respond," said Ronove gently. He dipped his head- his lips inches from Battler's and his breath ghosting against Battler's face- when...

"S-stop."

It was Battler who spoke that line this time.

Battler's hands were pressed against Ronove's chest, pushing him back- keeping him away- whereas, seconds before, Battler had invited Ronove's every touch, and had nearly collapsed into his arms. Battler's eyes were unreadable, the blue irises obscured by that messy red hair that would never lie flat- but, slowly, he brought his gaze up to meet Ronove's again.

Battler shivered.

"I-I don't know..." Battler mumbled, his voice thick with confusion. The same confusion that filled his eyes; made his expression significantly less straight-forward than general. "I don't know..."

"Don't give yourself a headache on my account."

"S-shut up," Battler responded, cheeks flushed. "M'not s_tupid._"

And, to prove his point, Battler prodded one of the deep purplish-black bruises on Ronove's neck.

"A-ah... I-I never said you were. D-don't jump to conclusions."

"You still _implied _it."

"I-I apologize for any unbidden slight on your intelligence, B-battler... A-ah... P-please be careful..."

"Why?" Battler asked, voice speculative, as he pressed against the bruises on Ronove's skin with slightly more force. "Does it hurt?~"

"Q-quite a bit... A-ah..."

Battler's eyes hardened- and a small, almost non-existent smile wavered at the corners of his lips.

"_Good_."

Ronove winced as Battler pressed intrusive fingers continued to trace patterns against the delicate, bruised skin of his neck. He shuddered, drawing away slightly- but Battler wouldn't let him, he _didn't_ want Ronove to leave.

And that thought was just a little disturbing.

Why...?

Why did he want to be with him?

Torn between wanting to push that stupid butler away (questions, questions, there were too many questions. Having sex shouldn't have been _that _complicated, damn it!), and- at the same time- wanting to wrap his arms round Ronove's middle and refuse to let go, Battler wavered.

He paused.

Then, his fingers reached forwards, grabbing Ronove's sleeve- pulling him forwards.

When Battler spoke, his face was flushed, his heart was racing and the words tumbled out of his mouth far too quickly.

"I-it's not just that, you know! I-it's not... I-I mean," Battler winced at his own ineloquence (he knew he wasn't the world's most 'charming gentleman', but being able to string together a half-way understandable sentence wasn't too much to ask of his brain, was it? ). "I mean... I-I did sort of... want to prove a point to Beato. I-I guess. Ihihi- it was pretty childish. And maybe it... u-um, _this_... all of this... started like that..."

Battler's voice wavered.

His grip on Ronove's sleeve tightened.

But his eyes narrowed with resolve.

"T-that's not the only reason, though!"

"Battler...?"

Ronove looked... surprised.

Battler wasn't smirking, or laughing, or acting arrogant.

He was almost like a completely different person to the one who'd confronted, taunted, Beatrice earlier.

This Ushiromiya Battler looked confused.

Unsure.

And determined.

Because no incarnation of Battler would ever give up.

"What is this other reason, may I ask?" said Ronove.

"You just did," Battler replied, the faintest smile curving his lips. "A-and I don't have to give you a response."

"Of course not."

"But... Ihihi... If you're _that_ desperate, I will say this."

Moving quickly, Battler stood on his tip toes (damn- why did Ronove have to be taller than him? Battler wasn't particularly short- not at all- and all those other times Battler had kissed girls he'd had to _lower _his head. This was slightly irritating) and pressed his lips against Ronove's.

Battler's fingers buried themselves in Ronove's hair, pulling him closer- even closer (a complete contrast to that stuttered 's-stop' before)- as his tongue pressed against Ronove's; it was warm and wet and slick and Battler felt his body tremble.

Hurting Beato's ego wasn't the only reason for 'this'- not at all.

Neither was a love potion.

That had nothing to do with it.

There was something else...

Battler pulled away slowly, out of breath, his eyelashes fluttering open- to see Ronove's small, sincere smile.

"Is that what you wanted to tell me?" Ronove asked, feigning innocence (a wasted feat, considering his hair was messy, his breathing was uneven and his lips were swollen).

Battler shook his head.

"Not quite."

"What, then...?"

"Ahaha... I-it's a little embarrassing. Bu~ut..."

"But?"

"I-I do kind of... Y-you know..." But words were rebelling against him- Battler couldn't think properly- and all that emitted from his lips were a few vague, garbled sounds.

"Gahhh."

He glared.

Inhaled.

Exhaled.

Then...

He smiled.

"I-I _do _like you, you know. M-maybe... Ahaha..."

Battler flushed- but his smile remained, and he didn't take his eyes from Ronove.

"Maybe just a little."

Ronove quirked a brow.

"'A little'?"

Battler smirked- then bumped their foreheads together gently, pressing another kiss against the corner of Ronove's mouth.

"Maybe even more than that. Who knows?~ You can figure the rest out for yourself."

* * *

"H-hey, Asmo!"

"Hn?" Asmodeus looked up from her toenails, which she'd been in the process of painting bright pink. Neon pink splotches were peppered across the carpet, too- but the twin-tailed stake didn't seem to care.

Knowing Asmodeus' hand eye coordination, creating a mess like that was only to be expected. Asmodeus had probably become accustomed to the field of chaos and destruction that surrounded her; she never seemed to notice when things went wrong about her anymore.

"Y-you didn't _really _give Battler a 'love potion', did you?" asked Beelzebub, her twin drills bouncing in distress as she swayed from side to side.

Asmodeus frowned, a look of intense concentration spreading across her face.

That was Asmodeus' 'I'm thinking' expression.

It looked painful.

But, after a short pause, her face brightened. She smiled.

"Nope! I didn't!"

"You didn't?"

"A potion like that doesn't exist," said Asmodeus firmly, nodding her head so her pigtails bounced- and very nearly upending the open bottle of magenta polish onto her bed as she did so. "I totally asked Zepar and Furfur about it, but they were all 'no! Nothing can substitute the amazing effects of true love! To think such a concoction could exist is blasphemy against our existences!' And then there were some creepy identical twin faces and over-dramatic posing, but I lost interest at that point. Fufufu~"

"Of course," said Beelzebub, nodding. "That makes sense..."

"It was only a prank. It's not, like, serious."

"Huh." Beelzebub rolled her eyes, flipping one of her blonde drills over her shoulders. "You try telling that to Bahhh~ttler, then."

"Why?" Asmodeus' eyes widened, and her voice dropped in volume- though it was still incredibly loud (Beelzebub had to wonder why she bothered; Asmodeus was about as subtle as an elephant on roller-skates). "What happened? What was he doing...?"

"You mean _who _was he doing."

Beelzebub groaned, pressing her hand against her forehead to stave off a headache.

She'd overheard Beato's argument with Battler and Ronove earlier; and the mere thought of those two crashing their lips together, desperate and needy- Battler believing himself to be under the influence of some 'love potion'- was...

Well.

Beelzebub wasn't sure whether that was incredibly disturbing or the most hilarious thing she'd ever heard.

Maybe both.

At least he joke had been successful.

Even if it did have, admittedly, a rather unexpected outcome.

* * *

"H-hey! I-I finally found it! B-but... W-what happened to it...?"

Lucifer was sat on the floor of Beatrice's room, the pile of inappropriate clothes Gaap had given Beato laid out before her.

And, in Lucifer's hands...

Was her black dress.

He favorite dress.

Or, at least, it had been, before Gaap had 'modified' it.

Make that, _murdered _it.

Lucifer's felt her blood begin to boil.

She was going to** kill **Gaap.

* * *

"So..."

"S-so? Y-you want to start _another _conversation?" asked Battler. "Right _now_?"

"M-maybe... J-just for a while?"

"You're just _trying _to piss me off now, aren't you?" said Battler, voice deadpan- but he was smirking, ever so slightly. "Y-you're just... s-screwing around with my feelings..."

"Perhaps," Ronove answered, not sounding abashed or ashamed at all. He laughed. "Pu ku ku~ Just a little."

"D-don't you know you shouldn't mess around with a teenager's emotions?"

"Ma~aybe~ But seeing you get so flustered is worth it."

"Y-you sadistic bastard."

"Why thank you~"

Battler had Ronove pinned against his bedroom wall. There was barely any space between the pair; and one of Battler's legs was tangled between Ronove's, his knee pressing ever so slightly against Ronove's erection so every slight movement made him gasp.

Owing to Battler's strange fixation with human flesh (Battler blamed Beatrice for that. She was a bad influence- her and her weird goat butlers) several new bruises were splashed across Ronove's already bluey-black skin. His neck was slick with wet saliva- so warm (everything was so warm) and it didn't look healthy- not at all.

It was probably quite painful.

At least Battler hadn't bitten hard enough to draw blood this time.

"T-this... I-it started... W-when you tried to... Take some kind of revenge on Milady?" asked Ronove, his words fragmented with light moans as Battler's knee pressed against him.

"Y-yeah... You could say that..."

"A-and you thought you could achieve this b-by... by trying to_ eat _me...?"

"Y-you're_ still _annoyed about that?"

"Not particularly. I was never 'annoyed' to begin with. Although my neck _does_ sting quite a bit."

"Ahaha. Sorry," said Battler, returning Ronove's smile with one of his own. "I-I just can't help myself. This isn't the best plan I've ever had, I'll admit. Ihihi~"

"I-it's not... the worst, though... I happen to have enjoyed it thoroughly. E-even the excessive biting... Pu ku ku~"

"You're not angry about it...?"

"Why should I be? Especially as_ this_..."

Ronove drew Battler into another kiss- far more gentle than their previous ones; almost caressing- not violent or forced or desperate at all.

Battler didn't need to hurry.

Somehow, he was sure Beatrice wouldn't interfere for a while.

She was probably plotting something- like how to take her revenge- but Battler couldn't think about that now; not when Ronove's lips were against his. Battler's eyelashes flickered shut without his own accord as he lost himself into the mix of sensation until he all-but melted against Ronove)

When Ronove drew away for breath a string of saliva connected their open mouths- gossamer, shining slightly.

"As _this_ is the result," Ronove finished- voice breathy, chest rising and falling in an irregular motion.

Battler's cheeks flushed slightly, his heart skipped a beat- and, despite himself, his lips curled into a smile.

"Ihihi~ Y-yeah... I guess."

When Asmodeus had given Battler that 'love potion', he'd been convinced it was just another misfortune to add the already extensive list of misfortunes that made up his life.

But maybe he'd been wrong.

It hadn't been_ that _bad.

Not at all.

It couldn't have been.

Not when the outcome was so perfect.

* * *

**The End**

* * *

**a/n: **B-but I don't want it to be ;A;  
This fic was /sooo/ much fun to write I don't even.  
I feel I've lost part of my /soouulll/ now it's over XD  
I guess I'll just go have to find some more Umineko crack pairings to write. But it won't be the same! ;A;

I lovelove Battler/Ronove and I accept it's not a pairing you can really make all adorable and kawaii desu cause the characters don't act like that and yeah complications are everywhere, but i still feel this epilogue is wayy more cute than it has any right to be, given the characters involved XDD Maybe it's a little ooc.

...It probably is.  
A lot.  
But I sort of like it anyway :D

As always, thank you to everybody who read, even if you didn't review, and I'm glad you liked my fic ^_^;  
If you guys enjoyed it, I guess that's all that matters, and I feel very happy ^_^``

**~renahhchen xoxo**


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